


because I’m coming too

by ribroast



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, BAMF Lance (Voltron), Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Blood and Gore, Emotional Tether(s), Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Romance, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gay Keith (Voltron), Happy Ending, Hunk & Lance (Voltron) Friendship, Keith (Voltron) Angst, Keith in Love (Voltron), Kissing, Klancetober 2020, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, Light Angst, M/M, Minor Character Death, Pining Keith (Voltron), Socially Awkward Keith (Voltron), Suicide, Vampire Lance (Voltron), Violence, Werewolf Keith (Voltron), sort of like the last movie of twilight, this was supposed to be the first day prompt but then it turned into a 20k pic of two idiots pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:08:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26869417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ribroast/pseuds/ribroast
Summary: It makes his skin look blue, just like the first night they met.It’s a long time before Keith speaks.“I didn’t want to make you feel like you were obligated to stick around.”Lance's first impression of the horrible Keith Kogane ebbs away as they draw closer to the battle of their life.
Relationships: Adam/Shiro (Voltron), Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 182
Collections: Just some pretty nice fics





	because I’m coming too

**Author's Note:**

> tw // suicide, and gore  
> (if i did the trigger warning incorrectly please let me know! my descriptions of the uhhh body are pretty vivid and i would hate to seriously upset anyone. it's also none of the major characters if anyone is fearful of that!)  
> this was originally supposed to be apart of klancetober, but then my mind went 'i like ya cut g' and here we are with 20k+ words  
> UGH I'M RE READING THIS AND IT'S SO POOP. i barely edited it because i would rather shove a freezing cold pickle in my earhole than read my own writing so i am so sorry if there are spelling errors! the wendigos in this fic are the ones from 'Until Dawn' so yeah that's terrifying and thank you for all of your kudos and comments! for those of you who come back and are persistent with reading my stuff thank you, i appreciate the support to an immeasurable amount.

Lance clutches onto the leather reigns tighter when the blurry group of people come into focus. 

He could smell them from a mile away, that musky earth smell. The smell of dry meat, and occasionally _wet dog_. They’re weres, and he pulls the reins on his Blue, gently nudging his spurs into her side. She stops abruptly, and two of the weres back up with caution, ones teeth bared, showing a delightfully sharp canine. 

_Sorry Rover, mine are better,_ Lance thinks to himself, dragging his tongue softly on the razor sharp fangs that are sheathed at the moment, though his mouth starts to unconsciously flex, bringing them to slide in front of his rather weak human canines. 

“This is Marmora Pack territory. State your business.” The biggest one of the group steps forward, and Lance holds back a repulsed look when he finds that their arm has been sloppily ripped off from the middle of the shoulder, muscle tendons and blood dripping steadily from the wound. They must have just suffered an attack. 

“I’m here to speak with Shiro about an alliance.” Lance scans the group for the potential were he has to speak to.

“That would be me. This is a bad time, we just faced an attack from the Galra Tribe. We’re in need of assistance-” He huffs, and his amputated shoulder awkwardly flexes, the muscle tendons barely holding on visibly clenching, another spurt of blood dripping down Shiro’s linen cloth shirt. 

“Yeah, that looks pretty bad...need a ride back to your-”

“No.” A man steps forward with wirey glasses and a stone hard glare. 

“My _husband_ does not need a bloodsucker’s assistance, thank you.” He spits, and his dark hand reaches out to latch around Shiro’s waist. 

Oh. Ohhhhh. _Oh_. Oh for fucks sake!

Lance rolled his eyes. 

“Please, he’s not even my type. I was offering because your _husband’s_ chopped off arm is leaking into the soil. Bad for crops yannow?” Lance scoffed. 

The man didn’t say anything, only stepping closer to his mate. 

“This alliance..who has it been proposed by? Yourself? You don’t seem to have any social ranking whatsoever.” Another were snorts, and Lance narrowed his eyes, searching out the heckler. 

Unlike Shiro or his protective mate, this one’s skin is so pale the moon makes it practically blue. He’s glaring at him with steely dark eyes and wild black hair that curls out like it’s a growing plant, or a feisty tentacle, a tendril of ink. He must be a guard because he wears a metal plate over his chest, a sword sheathed in a crushed brown velvet cover over his back, the stone encrusted sword handle gleaming from his neck. He has to quench himself for a moment.

“Not that you don’t know this Bingo, but even the biggest and baddest wolves can’t sniff a _vice commander_ when it’s in front of them.” He hisses, and the wolf growls, beginning to step forward. 

“Keith!” Shiro snarls, and ‘Keith’ freezes, though his glare of hatred remains active and alive on his face. 

“The alliance was requested by my superior, Allura.” Lance continues, pleased with the emotional dent he’s caused the vexed guard. 

Shiro is silent for a moment, before nodding. 

“We agree.” He plainly shrugs, and Lance’s eyebrows raise. 

“Wow, really? Just like that? No trial I have to go through to prove anything?” Lance is confused really, that a huge decision like this could have such a causal answer. He wonders if that’s how all werewolves handle their business. 

Most of the werewolves chuckle, apart from a few who remain silent and glaring. 

“No, no that’s just a rumor. Just like the rumor vampires feed off of their own alliances and recruits.” Shiro debunks, and his only arm snakes around his mate’s torso. He’s gotta be in horrible pain at this point, the conversation has been droning on for about five minutes now and that’s a fully on amputation. 

“Who said that was a rumor?” Lance grins, and he flexes his mouth so his fangs drop down, gleaming in the moonlight and sharper than any dog canine. 

Shiro rolls his eyes playfully. 

“Good to see vampires are humorous. Farewell Lance, I must tend to my wounds now.” And with that, he exchanges a glance with his pack, and they all turn, jogging off into the distance. 

Lance remains there, and watches as they run over the hill of soil a few yards away, raising a brow when the imprudent guard from earlier turns and stops. 

Lance doesn’t know if he intends to have a stand off with him, but he can feel the adrenaline of a battle stirring in his gut, and Blue softly neighs, the tension that palpable. 

But the guard does nothing, except turn and jog down the hill, out of sight. 

Lance sits there for a moment piecing together what even just happened, bringing his finger up to his mouth and biting down on the overgrown nail. 

“C’mon.” He mumbles, before taking his fingernail out of his mouth and turning around, racing back up the dirt path and out of the field. 

***

“I wasn’t aware the alliance would be _this_ tight knit, princess.” Lance grumbles as he watches the werewolves get out of their sleek black Lexus and begin to walk towards the entrance of the building. 

“Don’t be a prick about this. The Galra Tribe is slowly gaining more power, and the werewolves are a powerful asset to our miniature coalition. It’s professional, so keep your personal grudges out of it.” Allura narrows her eyes from her cushy chair, a deep blood red that’s illuminated with golden flares by the roaring fireplace behind her. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Lance folds his arms over his black turtleneck, the sleeves curling over his bruised knuckles. 

“Shiro spoke with me about your scuffle with one of his guards yesterday. I want you to put that aside, ok?” Allura sits up, pushing back and smoothing her black pencil skirt, adjusting her blood red broach fastened at her neck, popping against her black blouse and dark skin. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Lance waves her off, before positioning himself behind his designated chair- right on the left corner of Allura’s chair. 

People begin to slowly pour into the room, at first his friends, vampires, but then a slow stream of werewolves as well. Lance finds himself unconsciously scanning the group for the guard, and once his eyes land on him his heart picks up, his head becoming foggy with anger. His hair is tied up in a tiny pony. Tufts of it hanging against his angular jaw where he notices a soft pink scar. He grips the back of the chair and turns his attention to his side, where Hunk nudges his right arm. 

“Go easy on the chair man.” He chuckles, and Lance’s eyes widen, letting go of the now dented chair and sending a glaring Allura a guilty smile. 

“Allura, thank you for having us.” Shiro steps out of the dog cluster, and Lance is thankful to see his arm is wrapped up with bandaging. 

Allura nods pleasantly, stepping away from the table and offering her hand which Shiro gladly takes. The shake makes everyone hold their breath in the room, especially because of the several battles before where they had fought head to head, had inflicted scars upon each other no one could fathom. 

“It’s my pleasure. I’m glad we can stop the Galra Tribe together, it would be an impossible defeat without your help.” She sits down, scooting in and gesturing for everyone else to sit as well. 

The vampires robotically sit down, noises of chairs scuffling across the hardwood floor filling the painful silence in the room. The werewolves awkwardly stand, and Allura smiles at them welcomingly. 

“Please, sit. We invited you in peace, not violence.” She gestured, and Shiro nodded, sitting. 

Like a wave, the rest of the wolves sat down, some of their shoulders touching because of the comically small space. 

The werewolves trained physically a lot more than vampires who were naturally gifted with agility and strength, and they were commonly a lot bulkier than their enemy. 

Lance found his eyes lingering at the seat right across from him, and his eyes drifted up, catching, why yes, Keith’s. If that was his name at least- or was it Jeff? He couldn’t recall. 

Keith was already looking at him, and Lance’s eyes rushed to Allura bunching his fingers together. 

“Now, for the last seven years, there’s been a slow but steady influx in illegal activity and murder. Boundary crossing, spies, informational leaks, and most of all, battles.” Allura started tapping a skinny tablet, and the projector on the opposite end of the table began to lower, a couple gasps coming from the werewolves that caused Lance to chuckle. 

A soft scoff made his head turn, and he was somewhat surprised to find it coming from Keith. Lance narrowed his eyes at him, bringing a hand up to rest his chin, tapping his fingers against a supple, tan cheek. 

Keith’s eyes are icy, and the tension rising between them as they glare at each other makes Lance’s heart quicken with something unidentifiable.

“If we could _all_ look at the projector please.” Allura coughs, and Lance gives Keith one last stink eye before directing his attention to the presentation. 

“Here’s a graph of the climb of activity between our two tribes. Over time though, I’ve created an experiment. After an incident where the Olkari fae poisoned our water supply because we had supposedly “stolen” their recent technology discovery, I began to notice something. We had been given the blueprints for that technology by Haggar, who stopped by this very building to personally drop it off. But then we were blamed? It didn’t make sense. And this was ongoing with many other communities, _especially ours._ ” Allura clicks through certain photos of key people and battles, some that made a few of them wince, or their breath catch. 

“So, I’ve come to a conclusion. The Galra Tribe is trying to overthrow our own and disrupt the power balance by framing us for things we aren’t responsible for.” Allura’s words lay over the supernatural force like a cool blanket, and Lance, who’s already heard this before, searches among the group for reactions.

Most of them seem to have calculating looks, but with a glance from Keith, he’s frowning, an eyebrow furrowed as he looks at the presentation. 

His jawline is sharp and the way his brow slants emphasizes his emotion, makes him seem more passionate than he probably is, like an orange fire. 

“This...actually makes sense. That time where it was reported that the vampires were setting up camp in our territory was reported to me by Thrax, one of their generals. When we got there it was only vampires, no camp whatsoever.”

“Exactly! We were sent out there because we were told you _gave_ us that part of your property for agricultural reasons! This is why it makes sense.” Allura brushes a piece of silver hair from her face, her eyes gleaming with the pure satisfaction of a theory justified. 

“So..what now? If they’re doing this to become more powerful, then it’s eventually going to happen.” The smaller were piped up, with big round glasses and light brown hair. 

“Good question.” Allura says, clasping her hands together. “We’ll fight.”

***

Arrangements were settled for the werewolves to live and train there, at Altea, where they met for the meeting. At first Lance was shocked Allura would even let werewolves stay for longer than an hour in her presence, but after eavesdropping on a rather flirtatious commentary between a blonde twin tailed were and his boss, he concluded she was more open to the species than he thought. They didn’t have different values, Lance didn’t despire were. He just felt rather uncomfortable around them. Especially because werewolves had never done good things for him in the past anyways. 

The first few days were extremely awkward. This had never occurred before, and now that it was happening- this sudden transition from having their own territories and spaces to having to share a communal bathroom and shower with your supposed enemy race- it was surreal. It wasn’t just the bathroom and showers. The dining hall. The field, even the training room had at least a couple weres in at all times. Lance’s only refuge was his room. 

“You think the ‘Big One’ is gonna be soon if they’re staying here?” Hunk asked, biting into his bloody burder, red blood trickling down his chin. 

Lance’s mouth watered, and he averted his eyes, sipping his juice from a plastic goblet gifted by the dining hall. 

“The ‘Big One’?” He asked, an eyebrow raised. 

“Yeah man, like the big battle where we fight the Galra.” Hunk wiped his chin apologetically, putting down his delectable looking burger for his own sip of juice from his cup. 

“Probably. ‘Lura knows what she’s doing, so I honestly doubt she’d just offer them a place to stay randomly if we weren’t going to begin strategizing. Can’t wait to be their asses though.” Lance grinned, nudging his friend who rolled his eyes. 

“Lance, Lance, Lance. Always thinking about the butt-kicking and not, i don’t know, the _rights_ we’re going to get out of this.” He joked, and Lance smirked, shrugging. 

“I dunno man. I mean, that’s like a given with the ass whoopin. Yannow? We wouldn’t be fighting if it weren’t for our restrictions and being controlled and shit.” He pushed his peas around his plate, and a cool breeze dusted his shoulders, making the hair on the back of his neck prickle. He shouldn’t have worn a muscle shirt today, but he’s working out with his sister Veronica later so he figured he could be efficient. 

“Not to mention the alliance can give us new opportunities in basically everything.” A new voice made both of them look up to find the werewolf who spoke a few days ago, the small one. 

“Pidge. My name is Pidge.” She looked to her food and then again, before setting her tray down and sitting in front of them. 

“I’m going to sit here with you guys.” She says, before stabbing her fork into her innocent bread roll and cramming it into her mouth. 

“Well ok then.” Lance can’t help but slightly grin because of her aggressive eating, and he spoons some peas into his mouth. 

***

“As most of you know, the Galra are wendigos. They don’t discriminate if you’re a werewolf, a vampire, or even a motherfucking duck. They will _eat you_.” Kolivan paces the line of vamps and weres, occasionally making bold eye contact with a weaker looking one. 

Lance slightly shivers at the thought of being eaten by a Galra, with their two sets of teeth and spindly limbs in true form. 

“We’re going to start simple. Individual training exercises that we do in Marmora Pack territory. My kits, I’m sure you won’t have a problem with these exercises.” Kolivan grins, and a few of the werewolves chuckle under their breaths. 

“Vampires on the other hand, your agility and strength is only going to get you so far. Prepare to throw up or collapse at least once throughout the day today.” He glances at a gleaming row of piles sitting off to the side, and Hunk beside Lance lurches, bile already rising to his throat. 

“First exercise, easy enough. Tag.” Kolivan comes back to the middle, his dark braid swinging behind him at his sudden movements. 

Lance grins. He’s fast. Good at tag. 

“In our true forms.” Kolivan finishes, and Lance’s grin fades. 

Lance is fast. But even racing a werewolf is slightly intimidating. Because they’re _even faster._

“First tagger, Rolo!” Kolivan yells, before blowing his whistle and sending people darting all different ways. 

Lance can hear the swift shifts in weight as werewolves jump up from the floor over a hundred pounds less than they were now, and land with their paws skittering across the metal. He turns and spots just in time as Rolo tackles a tawny colored wolf, who snarls before ripping across the floor and barreling into Nyma, an unsuspecting vampire who crashes to the floor, standing up with a blood nose. Lance gains distance, dodging other players running wildly throughout the floor, stopping to catch his breath. 

“New tagger is Ezor!” Kolivan yells, and Lance’s eyes widen as he watches a reddish wolf pound the floor, tongue lolling out gleefully as she chases a small honey colored wolf- which Lance assumes is Pidge. 

He needs to gain distance. He dodges a wolf that barrels to the side door- it appears some wolves and vamps have completely forgotten about tag and have created a mosh pit, and Lance rolls his eyes when unsurprisingly Allura tackles a wolf to the ground, slivers of her shown laughing between stamping feet in the mosh, the wolf licking her cheek. It must be the blonde girl from yesterday, because her fur is white- tinted practically yellow. 

“New tagger is Keith!” That has a chill benign sent down Lance’s spine. He turns and spots a black wolf on the opposite side of the humongous room. 

He seems to have spotted him too, because he begins to gallop towards him, and Lance clenches his fist, because he’s ready. 

Keith is getting closer and closer, and Lance stands his ground, his heart beating faster than ever before. When Keith lunges into the air, snarling echoing across the walls, Lance smirks, rolling under him and popping up, running away through clusters of people. Lance almost feels guilty when he hears the thud of Keith hitting the opposite wall, and turns his head back, surprised to see Keith on his heels. He side steps, causing Keith to skid and turn, tail wagging angrily. He darts forward again with a snap of his jaw, and Lance falters, knowing they’re most certainly not playing tag anymore. 

Almost instantly his fangs slide down, and he opens his mouth, gritting his teeth in a sign of defiance, his position hunched. 

“C’mon, you big hairy dog! If you’re gonna catch me, _catch me!_ ” He growls, and this time when Keith attacks, he doesn’t sidestep, only punching himself and sending them rolling on the floor. 

Before he knows it he’s being thrown off, and he recovers quickly, standing up. He isn’t surprised to see Keith has reverted back to his human form, and he’s practically furious. It makes Lance smile, and Keith hurls a punch at him which he blocks, sneaking in an uppercut with a grunt. Keith pushes him back with his foot, and he slams into the ground with a grunt, the wind being knocked out of him. He knows he’s in a vulnerable position laying on the ground, and he’s proved right when his legs are dragged, and he’s hurled across the floor, making his ass pop out as he scrambles to get up. He whirls around just in time and cries out when Keith punches him square in the nose, with an angry grunt. Lance whirls a punch on his cheek with his right hand, the satisfaction of the ‘thwack!’ noise making him chuckle. It stuns Keith, and Lance pushes him onto his back, crawling on top of him and kneeing his crotch. 

“Who’s so big and bad now huh?” He spits, raising his fist. 

A blinding pain erupts in his ribs and he yells as Keith’s nails rip his shirt and slice his side. 

“Fuck!” He groans, clutching Keith’s throat. 

All Lance sees is red, and he grins when Keith’s defiant glare turns desperate, his eyes widening and arms pinned by Lance’s elbows. 

Keith’s face grows redder and redder, and Lance only now realizes that everyone has crowded around them in a circle, shouting and yelling cheers and insults. 

“T-That all you got?” Keith chokes out, his face like a tomato now. 

Oh, so he wants to keep going?

“I fucking hate you.” Lance spits, tightening his grip. 

Keith’s menacing glare softens, and his eyes widen, as if a monumental wave of hurt had just crashed over him. It makes Lance’s heart pang, and his lips part in confusion. 

He’s about to eat his words- about to scream that it’s a lie when someone strikes him in the back of the head. 

Pain blooms his vision, and like falling asleep, he falls forward onto Keith’s chest, falling into unconsciousness. 

***

His side tingles with the slight reminder that he’s wounded, and he groggily opens his eyes to find he’s in the Med Bay. The curtain is drawn- and he seems to be in the last bed because his bed is against the wall. 

“Oh, you're awake. I hit you pretty hard.”Allura pulled back the curtain, revealing she was still in her training outfit, capri leggings and a nike tank top. She looks great for just having to probably lug Lance’s dead weight from the training room to here.

“It’s fine. I deserved it..” Lance cautiously lifted his head and touched the aching spot, surprised that there was no blood, for it felt like it was bleeding. Probably psychological. 

“You most certainly did. That was unacceptable Lance! We had a conversation about this and you almost _choked him out_?!” Allura rubbed her face tiredly, her forehead seemingly damp. 

“I know..I’m sorry. I was just..so angry at that moment and that guy just...ugh. He pisses me off. When we first met he told me I didn’t have any social ranking- which is phrased stupidly but it really stung!” Lance pouted. 

“I can see why you’re upset, but you need to be the bigger man, because I’m sick and tired of this. I won’t risk this coalition with you. Shiro was _furious_. I had to kiss his ass so hard it- was probably the straightest moment I’ve had.” Allura shook her head, sitting down in the chair. 

“I’m glad you’re ok. Just..please. Get this sorted out.” Allura begged. 

Lance was extremely lucky to have earned this position. From being a recently orphaned recruit to now the second in command was insane, and to be able to see his friend in a vulnerable way like this was quite comforting. He knew this rivalry was pointless..there was just something about that mullet that made Lance want to slam Keith into the wall and...and-

“My eyes are up here.” Allura snapped, and Lance rolled his eyes, leaning up into the bed. 

“Oh please, that’d be like staring at Veronica’s. By the way, thank you for carrying me here. I hope I didn’t blow your back out of anything. Those bread rolls we recently got a shipping of have reallllly taken a toll on my eating habits..” Lance patted his stomach. 

“I didn’t carry you here.” Allura furrowed her brows, and Lance raised a brow. 

“Ok? Then who did?”He sat up. Was it Hunk? Or Kolivan?

“Keith did.”

“WHAT?” He shrieked, and Allura shushed him, tapping her finger against her glossed lips. 

“Jesus you’re so dramatic! Yeah, he carried you here. You were already passed out on top of you so he just stood up with you in his arms and carried you out.” Allura shrugged, and Lance’s eyes widened. 

Why would Keith do that, especially after Lance choked him? Pink rushed to Lance’s cheeks involuntarily as he thought about what that may have looked like, a haggard Keith carrying Lance. How did he carry him? Where were his hands? Was Lance nestled against his neck, where Keith could feel every exhale of breath?

“Oh my god.”Allura interrupted his thoughts, and he blinked back to see her deviously smiling. 

“What?”

“This is so fucking _rich_! You have a crush on him! You idiot, you have a crush on him!” Allura gleefully whispered, and Lance gasped in horror, his stomach dropping. 

“I do not!” Something sour made Lance pucker his mouth, and he clutched his beating heart. 

“I would rather go out with _Lotor_ than Keith!” Lance shuddered. Lotor was a pervy werewolf who had approached Allura one of the first days of training and flirted with her inappropriately. He ended up being drop kicked. 

“Ugh, no you wouldn’t. I think you _definitely_ wanna go out with Keith….and maybe more!” Allura snickered, and Lance groaned into his pillow, turning away from Allura. 

“Can’t talk, I’m getting rest now. Bye!” 

“Aw, don’t be like that. I have to go back to training anyway. You’re lucky you’re missing it, We’re doing leapfrog but the weres are in their wolf form.” Allura shivered, before bidding Lance goodbye and shutting the curtain. 

Lance lay there thinking about what Allura had said. Keith, with his heartbroken face under Lance the last time he was awake, how his eyes had grown glassy in a way that made Lance’s grip falter, where he felt horribly guilty. He knew he needed to apologize. He thought about how Keith had carried him here. The image made his cheeks glow a furious cherry color again, and he pushed those thoughts out of his head because it was purely ludicrous. This guy was an asshole. A handsome asshole Lance will admit, but a certified dickhead. He would _never, ever_ look at him that way. Even if they were the last two people on the world, the chance of Lance ever falling for a rude werewolf like Keith was unlikely. 

***

Ok, even though Lance would never fall for him, he does owe him an apology. Perhaps he’s been too harsh, been playing a game that Keith doesn’t understand. But for the next two weeks, Keith is nowhere to be seen. It’s really confusing, because _unfortunately_ Keith’s schedule is somewhat intermingled with Lance’s. He’d see him stalk past in the dining hall with Shiro, or come out of the bathroom as he was going in (most awkward interaction ever). But now, it’s like he’s been ripped from Lance’s narrative. And secretly, it gnaws at Lance. He hates it. He hates that it upsets him so much to the point that he’s asking around for where he is, the unsolicited itch has overtaken him. 

“Didn’t you try to like...kill him two weeks ago?” Pidge looks up from her book across the table, and Lance rolls his eyes.

“I wasn’t trying to _kill_ him! I was just trying to show my..dominance? Kinda like in those funky shows about ABO or whatever.” Lance shrugs, and Pidge nods. 

“Well, I mean I’ve _seen_ him around. He mostly stays in his room though.” Pidge flips the page without even looking at the book. 

“What a nice guy. I borrowed his telepad from him the other day and when I gave it back to him a day late he was all like ‘No problem,’.” Hunk sighed, nodding. 

“ _Hunk!_ Why are you hanging out with the enemy!?” Lance feels joking betrayal, and he softly punches Hunk’s meaty bicep. 

“Sorry man, but your repressed horniness isn’t mine.” Hunk shrugs.

“Uhhh WHAT?!” Lance’s mouth drops open. 

“Good one, dude!” Pidge chuckles, and they high five over the table. 

“Wow, thanks a lot guys. I’m gonna go before you two start ganging up on me about what I ate this morning.” Lance jokes, standing up and searching the room for Allura, knowing they have a meeting in a few. 

The meeting goes smoothly, just one for higher officials and going over the logistics of everyone’s progress. It seems that the date for the battle is crawling significantly closer, and werevamp bonds are becoming stronger. In fact, the first werevamp couple, Rolo and Nyma were announced only a few days or so ago. It’s hopeful to them and they end the meeting on a cheery note, bidding each other goodnight. 

Lance wakes up to fumbling. He doesn’t think anything of it at first, that it’s just himself shifting in the sheets, but then it still keeps going even when he lay perfectly still. His eyes widen and he’s fully awake now, his eyes quickly adjusting in the dark. His fangs slide down so quickly they prick the inside of his lips, and he can make out a tall figure shuffling through his drawers. 

_What the fuck?_

His heart is beating faster than it ever has before- _even when he was actually alive and actually had a heart instead of a false pulse-_ and he springs up, turning on the light. 

“WHO- _Keith?!_ ” He’s more surprised than anything, and Keith spins around,eyes wide with Lance’s sock in his hand. 

“What the fuck are you doing in my room?! With my _dirty sock_?! Oh my god are you a perv or something?!” Lance shrieked. 

“What?! No! I’m not a perv I _swear!_ I just…” Keith cleared his throat scuffing his foot against Lance’s cheap rug. 

“I ran out of socks?” He scratched the back of his head. 

“So you decided to come to my room? We almost killed each other last week-”

Keith huffed. 

“Yeah well, I kind of don’t know anyone else.” Keith scratched the back of his head, his shaggy black hair moving with his large hand. 

“And..and you know me?”

Keith stared at him for a moment, his mouth slightly pursed. Lance could hear his breathing, and his chest was tight with a dry spell of nerves. 

“I’ll just go.” Keith turns and reaches for the door, and before Lance realizes, he’s leaping forward, his hand wrapping around Keith’s.

The werewolf freezes, his shoulders hiking up subtly, and he turns wide eyed to him, mouth slightly open in surprise. 

“I..I’m sorry..about the other week. I don’t know what came over me and-”

“It’s ok.” Keith straightens, and Lance lets go of his hand, stepping back because he’s so close to him he can hear the fabric of his shirt move. 

“That’s it? You’re not gonna chew me out?” Lance is surprised. He held him in a chokehold, watched his face turn unnatural colors and watch his eyes well with tears. 

“I ran towards you first, I wanted to fight.” Keith shrugged.

Lance bit his lip. Sure, Keith wanted to fight, but did he want to fight now? He doubted it- Keith was standing there in a not-so-baggy, blue and heathered shirt with messy hair, along with under armour black shorts. 

“Do you want to fight now?” He spoke- surprised when it came out softer than he expected. 

Keith stands there like he always does. He’s silent again, and it’s almost too crushing for Lance to bear, it almost makes him shout out something obscene just to layer the silence with humorous undertones. Keith’s thinking, he can see the cogs turning in his dark eyes and he wonders why it’s taking so long for Keith to answer. 

“No. I do not. Didn’t want to when I first met you either, but you kind of began to piss me off.” He blurted, and Lance scoffed. 

“Oh? And why’s that, _pooch?_ ” Lance sneers, and Keith crosses his arms, taking a step forward. 

“That. You’re always treating us- no, me particularly like I’m just a dumb fucking dog. We’re not. You know, Shiro told me to keep my personal feelings out of it- but how am I supposed to when _you can’t_?” Keith growls.

“Personal feelings my ass.” Lance mumbles, turning away from Keith and stomping over to his bed. 

“What the fuck did we ever do to you, huh? All your prejudice is based on _rumors_ . _Stories. Fucking myths!_ I mean, it’s a little hard to push away the fact that vampires have the killing instinct for weres but at least I’m trying-”

“What did werewolves do to me?” Lance stands up, and his heart swells with anger that he can’t comprehend. It’s so much flying out a tiny crack and it eats him alive on the inside, so much to where he has to clench his fist. 

“My fucking family was mauled by werewolves, that’s what. So yeah, I might have a little bit of a vendetta against asshole pooches like you that try and tell me I’m low class.” Keith’s eyes widen and Lance begins to walk towards him, every word a step forward. 

Lance pauses, suddenly pushing Keith against the door with a slam, making Keith grunt when Lance pulls him by the front of his shirt. 

“Listen up- I’ll tell you once and once only. I have the power here, got that? I’m not gonna let you or anyone else get the best of me. Personal bullshit or not. So don’t cross me again and we’re..” Lance trailed off, his anger beginning to fade away and Keith’s guilty expression. 

“We’re…” Hot flashes creep down his back and it transports him to a time he shuts out. 

Laughing and hugs, hair that smells like the sun and picadillo that explodes on your tongue and makes you say “mmmm, más!”. He catches a glimpse of green eyes and soft hands that cup his cheeks, and she kisses his nose so softly Lance can’t feel it in the memory. He whimpers, and he can feel his eyes growing glassy even though he’s not there right now. 

“Mamá,” He croons, and before he knows it his knees are giving out under him and he can’t stop shaking. His limbs are so..so numb, and tears drip down his cheeks, the memory replaying before his blue eyes over and over, the tan skin laying out on the beach, the laughter, the games of tag with his other siblings-

“-ance..Lance!” Keith shakes him once more and Lance gasps, his eyes bringing Keith into focus. 

His bottom lip trembles and his brows are furrowed in a way that makes his heart beat. They’re just there to stare at each other, and the intimate eye contact, how Keith’s gaze is so powerful sends another sob bubbling up his throat. 

Keith leans in and wraps his arms around him,burying his head in Lance’s shoulder. 

It’s been so long since he’s had a hug like _this_ , one that makes him feel ok and that he’s coming home, and he pops another cry into Keith’s hair, complying when Keith lifts him up with his strength and begins to walk them towards the bed. 

“Lay down.” Keith whispers, and Lance shakily breathes, slowly laying down, his heart aching because he misses his mom so much. 

God, how much he misses his family. He just wishes they were still here, he wishes that his mom could yell at him one last time, and could hug him one last time. 

He feels the bed dip beside him and sighs when Keith sidles up next to him, wrapping his arms around Lance’s waist and scooting his body backwards towards Keith’s chest. 

Lance’s chest clogs, and he shakily reaches his hand down by his waist, gasping softly when Keith wraps it in his own, sighing when his head nuzzles the back of his neck. 

A low growl erupts deep from Keith’s throat, and at first it has Lance alarmed, as if Keith is going to attack, but then he realizes what it is. Keith is soothing him. It’s wonderful, a soft growl and it’s somehow dripping with love, with complete adoration that Lance can feel. He wonders how Keith can mock such a feeling, how Keith can manipulate that for Lance. 

He turns his head slightly so his cheek rubs against Keith’s forehead, nuzzling into the black hair. 

He’s forgotten about everything. His mind is a blank slate, the only thing it wants and needs it Keith, and this wonderfully fuzzy feeling stewing in his stomach. Keith gets the hint and turns him towards himself slowly, and Lance complies, shakily whining into Keith’s chest when Keith let’s go of his hand. 

It’s quelled when Keith’s hand starts to drift up and down Lance’s back, and his lids droop devastatingly, because there is no point in going back now. His body relaxes and he’s pulled into a sleep that is warm, like he’s sleeping by a fireplace, with the soft rumble of Keith playing in the background. Before he’s pulled completely, he distantly feels the werewolf press a kiss to his cheek, and his stomach flutters. 

He dreams that he’s flying.

***

Lance is extremely thankful for the small ‘break room’ placed by his room, only a few doors down with an abundant amount of coffee and punny mugs. He’s sipping dark out of a blood red mug that says ‘morning gruel’ and pleased with himself, idly sipping with his sweatpants settled lowly on his hips. 

“You dog.”Allura’s voice makes his head turn, and he raises a brow in confusion because she’s smirking almost creepily. 

She’s still in her pajamas, drastically different than her dark and professional clothes. They’re a light purple with sailor moon prints all of them, probably ordered off amazon for cheap. 

“I’m a what?” 

“I saw Keith come out of your room a few minutes ago. Finally put the sexual tension to good use huh?” She wiggled her eyebrows, and Lance gave her a blank expression. 

Keith came out of _his_ room? What was he doing in his room in the first place- _oh_.

He flushed bright red, encountering the extremely intimate moment last night, shaking his head. 

“My god Allura! No, no no. NO! I would _never_ -”

“You totally would,”

“Well I didn’t know! He snuck into my room last night to try and steal my sock and then we just both...fell asleep.” He winced and took another bitter sip of his coffee, recognizing how suspicious it sounded.

“That’s such a fucking lie! One of your worst ones too!” She finally walked inside the breakroom, her tongue poking out of her mouth when opening the fridge to a hearty supply of blood from anonymous donors. 

“AB posi or O neg?” Allura asked, scratching her chin, and Lance hummed. 

“O neg. Has a richer taste.” O negative was definitely a rarer one they got, and it usually disappeared within the first day of the shipment. 

Allura grabbed the blood bag and a metal straw from the can beside the coffee maker, bringing the bag up to her fangs and puncturing a hole in it. 

“When do you think this is gonna happen?” Lance blurts, and Allura gives him a confused look as she slides the metal straw through the opening, taking her first sip and humming. 

“Like..the battle with the Galra tribe.” Lance adds, on, taking one last gulp of coffee before setting the mug down in the sink.

Allura pauses, her blue eyes calculating as she takes another hearty sip. Only when she swallows, she bites her lip. 

“This month most definitely...the word about weres and vamps will eventually come out- especially about the Altea and Marmora flock, and they’ll be livid. I’d be surprised if they didn’t hear about it by the end of the week.” She shrugged, and Lance frowned. 

How could she be so alright with dangerous information like this even getting out? Especially to a bunch of wendigo like the Galra? Lance had never seen a wendigo in it’s true form, it’s usually too painful to even transition that far, and their thirst or human meat doesn’t stray when in human form. But he isn’t stupid. He knows they’re strong and fast. Knows that they’ve been trained to hold minorities like werewolves and vampires down by the throat, like a chokehold. 

“I know what you’re thinking. But what can I do? Until then, we need to prepare for the biggest battle of our lives. I’m doing the best I can, and what I was recommended to do.”

“I’m not hating on your strategy at all Allura.” His brows furrowed. “It’s just frightening. We can’t do anything except just...wait.” 

Allura sighed, nodding. She takes another sip of her pouch, downing the rest in one go, before removing the straw and disposing of the blood bag in the trash. 

“Wash this for me will you? Might as well since you also have that cup.” She hands him the bloody straw and he silently nods, turning on the bubbling faucet as she exits the room. 

***

Lance doesn’t see Keith again for a day or so, and it has his nerves turned up the fucking wazoo. Every set of footsteps down the hall could be him, everywhere he turns could lead to possible embarrassment. 

It was humiliating. He refuses to even think about it now, how he broke down in front of his despised enemy and how he didn’t hesitate to comfort him.

He refuses to even let himself recall Keith’s warmth, or how large his hands were, how he felt a soft kiss placed on his cheek that made him feel like toffee.

Instead, he trains. He rips the dummies made of burlap sacks and soil to pieces, tearing out their floral foam throats and pushing them to the ground. He slices and dices with his favorite weapon, a broadsword. It’s sleek and red, a color he usually wouldn’t pick but thankful he did because it goes _so well_. He’s amazing with a gun but there’s something about when he trains with a sword that makes his movements graceful, like he’s dancing. 

By the time he’s finished he collapses in a sweating heap, sword sheathed back into the hold by his waist and awkwardly pressing to the floor while he lays there, sprawled out. 

His eyes are only just about to close when the light above him is shadowed by a huge figure. He squints, and the jagged lines of shaggy hair indicate to him it’s Keith. 

“You’re good with a sword.” He says, and Lance closes his eyes again, ignoring his heart beating so heavily it practically hurts. 

“I’m better with a gun.”

“That’s a given. I never said you didn’t have anything to work on.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!” Lance springs up, swinging towards his enemy with fire blazing in his eyes. 

It’s dampered when Keith doesn’t reciprocate, just stands there staring at him with a somewhat hopeful expression on his face. 

“Sorry- I wasn’t saying it to be rude..I can give you some pointers if you want.” Keith shrugs, and pulls out his sword from over his left shoulder, the blade gleaming in the light. 

“I..what?” Lance is honestly confused, why would Keith offer him tips?

Keith stares at him for a second, before huffing, rolling his eyes.

“Look, this rivalry you seem to have created in your head and projected onto me is stupid. I’m sorry for doubting your social status the first time we met, but now I am offering you a peaceful approach to..friendship.” The last word seems difficult for him to utter out, and his knuckles turn white as he grips the hilt of his sword. 

“You..you want to be friends?” Lance gapes. 

How could Keith surrender so easily? Was Keith right? Was this hatred only one sided, did he not despise him as Lance did?

Keith somewhat had a point. Keith was strong and had Hunk’s seal of approval. So perhaps Lance should give him a choice. 

“O-ok. Yeah, give me some samurai tips _._ ” Keith perks up at the non-canine nickname, and nods, backing up. 

“Well, first off, I noticed that when you fight, you’re swift. Practically graceful, it’s really nice. But you seem to be purposely portraying that, like you care more about looking good in battle than accomplishing it. You need a firm grip on your hilt so your sword can slice the air with more power. Like this!” He raises his sword and slices it down, the blade cutting the air with a swift noise. 

Lance swallows back his ache to defend himself, nodding. He looks down at his sword, backing up himself and gripping the hilt hard. Keith was right, this was a lot more intense than his grip before, where his sword could smoothly butter through the air. He raises his sword and horizontally cuts through the space in front of him, his eyes widening. 

“Woah,” He can’t believe the amount of power his sword strikes down with, compared to the dainty swings he used to do. 

He feels foolish and his cheeks dust pink with embarrassment. 

“Your sword fighting is beautiful..but it just won’t matter as much in battle.” Keith’s cheeks grow red and he scratches under his jaw somewhat nervously. Lance must admit it’s quite adorable. 

“Another thing, when you go to rip the artery in the neck, you go sideways, and bare your neck. That’s kind of dangerous because a sword could easily be brought down, or your opponent could bite your own neck. So instead, strike with your sword first and go in vertically. It might be awkward, but it has less of a chance sacrificing your own life.” Keith points out, and now that Keith’s first piece of advice, Lance is desperate for more, nodding. 

“Ok, so..like this?” He spins towards the dummy standing behind him and brings his sword down on the opponent's face, tilting their neck and then pouncing, resisting the urge to turn his head and latching onto the green foam, managing to rip a hearty choke out. 

“Yeah! You actually catch on pretty fast.” Keith smiled, and Lance looks away because it’s a _nice smile._

The werewolf’s teeth are white, and the smile is wide, making his eyes crinkle slightly. It’s adorable, though Lance will never admit it. 

“Thank you.” And he means it, he appreciates Keith’s advice and nonjudgmental attitude.

He doesn’t stand there for a while, just staring at him with calculating eyes. He swallows visibly, and Lance watches his Adam's apple bob.

“The pleasure is mine.” He softly says, and he bows, stepping away and turning to leave. 

“I don’t hate you!” Lance blurts, and he pales in embarrassment because _wow Lance, that was random! Congratulations dumbass._

Keith stops, turning halfway and smiling. 

“I know you don’t.” 

He leaves Lance in the training room staring at the door. 

***

“Room for one more?” Lance turns to find Keith with a bundle of blankets in his arms, a modest look on his face. 

Lance nods, biting his lip and scooting over. They’ve definitely never done this before, and Lance wonders if Keith followed him out here. 

He lays out a blanket, before laying another one wrapped around the foundation. He turns around several times and it makes Lance snort. 

“Done with your nest, Filbo?” He jokes, and Keith chuckles, sitting down and leaning against the metal backing of their tiny spot on a ledge of the roof. 

“Isn’t it Fido?”

“No..it’s Filbo.”

“Pretty sure it’s Fido.” Keith smirks, and Lance rolls his eyes. 

“Fine it’s Fido! I made a mistake, kill me!” Lance throws his hands up in the air, cheeks pink with embarrassment. 

Keith laughs, and Lance turns to look at him because it’s a surprising noise Lance has never heard before. 

His whole chest heaves when he laughs, his eyes squinches and eyebrows upturned, mouth open as he laughs, his shoulders hiking up because for some reason Lance screwing his joke up is hilarious. 

Lance gulps, his stomach dropping. 

“I guess it can be filbo, I’ve just never heard someone call their dog filbo before.” His eyes are twinkling, and Lance shakily rolls his own eyes, gulping. 

“Yeah whatever.”

The silence is somewhat comfortable, except for the fact Lance knows Keith is staring at him. It’s like lasers burning the back of his head, and he turns, eyebrows raised.

“What?” 

“What’s your favorite..color?” He asks, his eyes drifting down to his fidgeting hands. 

He’s making small conversation, and Lance sort of appreciates it. Lance leans back complicity sighing. 

“Blue. You?”

“Red.” Keith answers back, nodding. 

Lance guesses it’s his turn and he tries to conjure up a question that will knock Keith’s socks off. 

“Favorite food?”

“I like pizza. What about you? If you still eat food of course.” 

Lance chuckles. “We still eat food. You think I’m gonna give up garlic knots just because I was turned?! Hell no.” He made a ‘psh’ noise, shaking his head. 

“You’re not naturally turned?” Keith bravely asks, and Lance shakes his head. 

“Naw. Almost died when I was younger- my family got attacked by some weres and everyone died except for my sister and I. Coran- Allura’s uncle turned to me to save me.” Lance finds it weird that he can just freely admit this. Well, he recognizes that Keith already knows what happened to his parents, so he shouldn’t lie. 

It just feels so natural, like talking to Keith is like talking to...his mom. Of course, he doesn’t see Keith as family- but that same overwhelming urge to say anything and everything lingers there, and it makes him physically press his lips together. He fears if he doesn’t he’ll blurt something else out. 

“Oh. That’s good that they saved you.” Keith says, and Lance looks out onto the woods lingering below on the ground, out into the sky where the moon hangs. 

“Was it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Dunno. Sometimes I think it would have been easier if I died then and there. With mi familia. It’s too painful to go on without them sometimes.” He shrugs, the heavy weight of his family’s death looming over his head like a metal halo. 

“Well...I’m sure it’s very hard. But you’ve been given so many more opportunities because of it and I think that..it doesn’t make up for it but it’s a reminder that there is good to balance bad out I guess. And if it helps, I’m,” Keith pauses, and Lance looks to him, a certain pressure in his chest making him shakily swallow. 

“I’m glad you were turned.” He admits, glancing at him. 

His eyes are unreadable, but at the same time he can see the emotion in them, how they’re so heavily carrying the burden of secrets that Lance wants to…...to suck them out. He feels like he truly can’t breathe, this moment more intimate than anything he has ever felt before. 

“Thanks.” Lance whispers, and the moment is over, Keith looking back out to the view. 

“I was born in the Galra Tribe.”

Lance’s eyes widen and he fully turns his body to Keith. Keith chuckles looking at him again. 

“Y-you’re a wendigo?” Lance isn’t really afraid, more shocked. 

Keith shakes his head, frowning. 

“No, I’m not. I’m fully a werewolf, born and raised. Well..born. I was raised in the Galra Tribe. Taken from my mum and dad when I was a baby or something. The Marmora Tribe rescued me when I was 12 though. Shiro did.” He smiles, looking distantly at something below. 

Lance tastes something sour, and his fists curl. 

“You must really like him, huh?” And it sounds more aggressive than he intended. 

Keith’s eyes widen, and he cracks a smile. 

“Are you kidding?! Ew! Oh my god, _ew_. No, Shiro’s like my brother. Besides, he’s married.” He laughs, and horribly enough, something in lance deflates, like he’s relieved or something. 

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean-”

“No, it’s fine. It’s a common misconception, even though Adam and Shiro are tethered.” Keith shrugs, and Lance’s eyes widen. 

“Tethering?” 

Keith’s demeanor seems to shift. He seems sort of uncomfortable now, uncertain and Lance wishes he could take back his curiosity. 

“Uh, yeah. A lot of people think it’s a myth but tethering is a real thing. All werewolves have a person they’re tethered to, romantic or platonic. It’s a person you care about the most, and would do anything for. Protect them and stuff. Kinda like a soulmate- but if the other person isn’t a werewolf they aren’t tethered back.” Keith explains, and Lance whistles. 

“Wow. Seems like a lot of stress for weres to find their tethers.”

“I guess? It can be painful when you’re away from your adknowledge tether for too long, especially when you’re first tethered to them.” Keith swallows visibly.

“Are..Are you tethered yet?” Lance can;t help but ask. 

He knows it’s none of his business, knows that he shouldn’t be asking. But it’s that unsolicited itch again, the feeling of wanting to be in Keith’s corner for no reason at all that always pushes his boundaries. 

Keith looks out onto the blue horizon once more. He looks sad, and Lance’s stomach drops. 

“Yeah. I did. He doesn’t feel the same way though.” Keith flashes a small smile, and the moon illuminates the gaunt shadows under his eyes. 

Lance feels like he’s punched in the gut. The thought of Keith with a tether? No. It’s weird. Keith, this brooding werewolf who can’t hold his tongue- one that has a loud laugh and likes pizza- has a tether? And they don’t like him back?

“It was painful then.” Lance thinks allowed, turning back towards the horizon. 

He really doesn’t know what he’s saying. This is already upsetting enough for Keith, talking about something unrequited, and Lance is only rubbing the golf shoe harder into his face. 

“It was the worst pain I’ve ever felt in my life.” He hoarsely says, like he’s getting choked up. 

Lance’s heart aches for Keith in a way that makes him uncomfortable, and he sighs, reaching out and putting a hand on his shoulder. 

Keith flinches, eyes glassy and he looks at Lance with wide eyes and a slightly open mouth. 

“He’s a dick then. If he doesn’t feel the same way, I mean.”

Keith snorts. “Lance, he’s not a dick for not feeling the same way, he can’t help it. But..thank you.” He smiles, but it doesn’t reach those eyes- though sad, purple, puppy eyes that make Lance want to scream. 

“Of course Keith. That’s what friends are for.” Lance’s eyes widen when the word _friends_ rolls off his mouth, and Keith is surprised, too. 

“Friends, huh? I’d like that.” Keith smiles, and Lance ignores the burning in his cheeks and fluttering in his stomach. 

Friends, indeed. 

***

The next morning Lance wakes up ex-haust-ed. He made the mistake- a lovely mistake- of staying up all night with Keith talking. 

He didn’t even realize it was late until he felt the warmth of the rising sun on his face and noticed the midnight sky had transitioned into a medium blue, beginning to get lighter and lighter. 

He’d learnt things about Keith that he had never realized to ask, had told Keith secrets he hadn’t told anyone. It made his stomach flutter just thinking about it, and he bit his lip smiling as he took a sip from his blood bath, the blood running down his throat pleasantly. 

“He’s doing it again.” Pidge groaned, and Hunk chuckled, patting Lance’s back. 

“You got some or something last night, buddy?” Hunk jokes, and Lance rolled his eyes. 

“No. I was talking with Keith last night, why?” Pidge and Hunk exchanged looks, smugly smiling. 

“So you _did_ get some last night.” The two of them giggled high fiving each other lamely. 

“What?! No, it’s not like that. We’re just friends.” Lance brushed off the tingling feeling that ran up his spine when he even thought about _getting some_ with _Keith._

“Uh huh, sure. For now.” Pidge adjusted her glasses with a look and went back to her book, Hunk nudging Lance and getting a pointy elbow in the rib in return. 

“You guys are crazy. Keith has a tether anyways.” Lance rolled his eyes at his friend's stupidity, and Pidge and Hunk exchanged wide eye looks. 

Just as Hunk was about to say something, there was a yell from outside the cafeteria. 

“What in the-”

“The Galra Tribe! They’re invading!” A vampire clattered to the floor by the entrance, their clothes dirty and a sleek arrow sticking out of their shoulder. 

The cafeteria entered chaos, screaming and the clatter of werewolves transforming and springing onto the tables, crowding the entrance to run towards the attacking enemy. 

Lance turned to his two friends, and Pidge scrambled to her feet. 

The transformation was weird to see up close, how Pidge went from a small girl to a larger honey brown wolf, skidding after her pack and howling, circular owl glasses forgotten on the ground. 

“Lance! Let’s go!” Hunk yelled, and Lance sprung into action. 

He knew what he needed to do, and he turned the hallway opposite of the action, sprinting down and skidding to a halt in a fork going to the left. He needed to get to the file room _fast_ , if the Galra tribe got their hands on their strategy or plans they would be dead on their feet before they even started. 

By the time he rounded the last hallway, he was panting, his run turning into a slow job. The file room was extensively blocked, instead of a complicit sliding metal door and iron one on a hinge. He shakily typed in the code, thrusting open the door and slamming it behind him. 

He stopped to catch his breath in the dark standing up and peaking out of the tiny window that showed a bit of the hallway. 

There was a scuffle behind him, and before the attacker could lunge, he pushed himself back from the door and ducked and rolled, the person slamming into the iron and rasping. 

Lance’s eyes were slowly adjusting in the dark, as he scrambled to get up. 

The invader was tall and somewhat meaty, clutching somewhat of a bag in his right hand and a dagger in the other. 

His eyes widened when he noticed the light shadow of cluttered papers in the dark, and he immediately shot himself towards the perpetrator, growling. 

The door opened almost humorously and Lance slammed into the wall, the perpetrator racing down the hall. 

“No!” Lance yelled, scrambling up and sprinting after him, using his reflexes to dodge scattering werewolves and vampires, and scarily enough, the occasional Galra wendigo when he had to. 

The figure was fast, a cloak was fastened at their waist, showing a flash of the bag every couple seconds or so. 

Lance could not let this person get away. If he had to die trying he would. 

Like this thought fueled him anew, he screamed using the floor to boost himself forward and knock himself and the perpetrator into the courtyard, in the thick of the battle. 

“Surrender the paper, swine!” He hissed, his fangs unsheathed practically immediately, as he wrestled the person. 

They flipped him over and stood up, narrowly kicking him before Lance was able to tumble away and bounce back, landing a sloppy uppercut and a knee to the stomach. 

Lance watches his side eye as werewolves and vampires attack human looking wendigos with fervor, one wolf encasing an opponent’s head in their mouth and biting down, a sickening squelch Lance could hear from here. 

The opponent landed a punch in his face, and he was knocked to the ground. A kick to the ribs, and suddenly, he was being dragged by his shirt away from the courtyard and further out. Lance grinned, taking this advantage to leap up. 

“I said, surrender!” He yelled, wrenching their shoulders down so they clumsily flipped back with a yelp, onto the ground, 

Lance tackled them again and they wrestled in the mud, clawing and biting Lance’s finger chomped on with a hesitant release. 

“Fuck!” He groaned, clenching his hand before landing a final punch square in the face, pinning the enemy to the ground. 

He wrapped his hands around their throat, and they gasped. 

They were quite feminine looking, with two pigtail-like tufts of hair and large plump lips. With blown out dark eyes, they looked almost alien like, and Lance tried his hardest not to falter when a tear ran down their face. 

“E...ezor..” They choked, and Lance bit his lip because _no. This was an enemy, and whether they had a lover or not- whether they were innocent or not, a member of the galra complicit, it was none of his business._

“Fuck.” He let go of their neck, quickly unlatching the briefcase from the enemy’s belt and standing up. 

They heaved a breath, rolling away and coughing into the dirty, stumbling up with shaky legs. 

“Y-you gave me mercy,” They seemed surprised, and Lance gritted his teeth. 

“Just go. Tell your Galra leader you have _failed_.” Lance spat, and the person nodded slowly, before turning and running away, deep into the forest. 

He clenched the bag to his chest and ran back to the courtyard, surprised to find that there was not a person in sight. The battle must have ended, and he quickly jogged inside, back to the file room. 

He could see the commotion coming from it before he heard it, and when he was in earshot he was thankful he had the plans in his hands, because Allura was livid. 

“-fucking irresponsible of all of you!” She screamed, and Lance poked his head in, surprised to find a group of people crammed into the small room.

His heart leapt when he noticed Keith’s presence next to Shiro. 

“Allura..managed to recover the files.” Lance stepped forward, and Allura’s face lit up, grasping them. 

“Oh thank god! Thank you lord, whoever the fuck is up there! Thank you!” She held the briefcase in the air, and Lance exchanged a wide eyed look with Keith flashing him a small smile. 

He frowned. 

“Lance, what happened to your finger?” Keith grabbed for his hand, and the sizzling pain clashed back into him, the adrenaline wearing off. 

“I attacked the person stealing the files and they bit my finger.” Lance shrugged, his face contorting. 

The room stilled and Allura brought the suitcase down to her chest, her eyes widening. 

“Wait..where is the perpetrator then?” Lance and Keith both turned to Allura, and Lance bit his lip. 

“You didn’t. Lance, don’t tell me you let them go out of...out of some sort of _mercy_.” Allura hissed, her face contorting into anger. 

Lance removed his hand from Keith’s shakily, looking down. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Everyone leave.”

“Allura, maybe-”

“Silence!” Allura screamed at Shiro who flinched, and nodded. 

“Ok, everyone out.” Shiro directed, and everyone spilled out of the file room. 

Keith brushed past Lance, his fingers sliding into his own for a moment before moving on. Lance’s cheeks flushed pink. 

The door slammed shut. 

“How could you? You’re supposed to be _my right hand_ and you let them go!” Allura shrieked, grabbing his shoulders, and Lance’s eyes stung. 

“Allura, I’m so sorry! But they were..they were crying and calling out for their lover and-”

“Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare make a fucking personal connection. The Galra are monsters! _They killed my parents!_ ” Allura bellowed, and anger made Lance push her away. 

“And werewolves killed mine! The Galra are bad as a whole, but most of them are just obeying because they have _no choice_. I told them to never come back, and they ran off! So don’t blame this whole thing on me! You’re lucky I even got everything back for you, Allura!” Lance yelled back, his eyes blurring with tears. 

Allura paused, biting her lip. A tear ran down her cheek, and she absentmindedly wiped it away. She sighed. 

“I...you’re right. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for making this about myself, I should be focusing on all of us. Can you..forgive me?” Her lip quivered, and Lance scoffed, nodding. 

“Of course I can, we all have our moments. I’m sorry for not killing them.” He pulled her into a hug, resting his head on her own as she softly sobbed into his stained shirt. 

“You smell bad.” She whined, and Lance laughed, pulling back. 

“It’s the stench of battle.” He joked, and she batted his shoulder. 

“Seriously, go take a shower. You stink.”

“I know.”

***

“Hey, wait up!” Lance hears someone familiar from behind him call, and he turns wide eyed to find Keith. 

He’s windswept, his shaggy black hair fluffed in parts so it swings in front of his face, his shirt pressing to his chest a bit. Like he ran here from practically the other side of the world. 

“Your, your finger.” He pants, and steps closer, voluntarily grabbing Lance’s head and pulling the finger to his face to inspect. 

Lance giggles, rolling his eyes. 

“You werewolves, always gotta make a big deal out of the smallest things.”

“We do not! Your finger was _bitten!_ ” Keith smiled, letting go of his hand to Lance’s dismay, the pads of his pale fingers squeezing Lance’s hand once more before letting it swing down to Lance’s side. 

“That was some fight though, are you..sure you’re ok though?” Keith takes another step forward, and Lance’s blue eyes dart up to his flushed face and back down to his neck area, nodding silently. 

“Fine. And you?” Lance steps forward himself, until their bodies are only a foot or so apart. 

Like a delayed reflection, Keith nods back silently, his dark eyes saying something Lance can’t decipher. 

It’s frustrating, and Lance just wants to take that face and bring those eyes closer so he can read the blurred message, understand what Keith is trying to tell him. 

“If that’s any reflection of the upcoming battle, I doubt we should really be fretting over a bite wound.” Lance joked, and Keith grinned, softly kicking Lance’s shin with his foot. 

“I guess so. But I don’t think any wounds will happen.” Keith reassures him cooly, and Lance tilts his head. 

Keith’s statement is a reassuring lie. Of course people will get hurt, people will _die_. The thought lingers in the back of Lance’s head and he frowns. 

“What do you mean?”

“I’m..I want to protect you. Keep you safe.” Keith’s hand reaches out and lands on Lance's shoulder with a small gasp, and Lance’s eyes open so they’re tiny sapphire rings surrounded by white. 

Lance at first wants to wave him off, to tell him that isn’t the point of the war. It doesn’t matter who you protect, they’ll get hurt. It’s a known fact of life that seeps into any bond, any promise. But it’s not fair- because _Lance wants to protect Keith too._

He wants to protect that bubbling fire in his stomach whenever they exchange eye contact. The jittering of his skin when Keith makes contact with him. Wants to even protect the sorrowful pangs in his heart that send tears spilling over his pillow at the sour knowledge of Keith being tethered- something he’ll never admit to another. But most of all, he wants to protect Keith. That smile. A boy who’s a wolf and loves to play sports and superhero comics. Especially the ones with the pretty girls on the cover- even though he doesn’t like them like that. A guy who folds his pizza and crams it in his mouth like a heathen, sending Lance into droves of laughter. He wants to protect that look Keith gives him when he teases him, wants to capture it forever.

Suddenly, like clairvoyance made known, as Keith lifts his hand away, it sends something blasting through his body. It’s like hot warmth, but sickeningly cold, like an ice cube mistaken for a hot match. Perhaps Keith knows magic and he’s cast a spell. Perhaps Keith contracted a deadly disease from the cafeteria and passed it through to him by touch, or perhaps the overwhelming feeling of adrenaline and happiness in himself is the reflection of the burning desire for him, something he’ll never have. It’s like a glass red apple that sits on a wooden table, red and clear but probably very tormented on the inside. 

Tears prick Lance’s eyes at this realization, and he swallows bitterly. 

“I want to protect you too.” Lance returns finally.

Keith smiles, stepping back. I guess we’ll have to protect each other then. I’ll see you tomorrow, Lance.” He bows endearingly before turning and walking away, down the hall until he’s so small he could fit in Lance’s palm.

Lance gives the hall a distant look, and tears gleam his eyes as his lips struggle to not contort.

“Damn you, Keith.” He whispers as a tear slides down his cheek, and he curses his damn tether too, locking the warmth in a box and shoving it under the crammed bed of his consciousness, so far back he can’t even recognize it. 

He won’t recognize it, he swears. 

***

“Why the hell are we doing this again?” Keith groans, and Lance smirks, turning around and popping a snow frosted berry in his mouth. 

“‘Cuz, she said it helps with wounds. An inflammatory or something. Plus, they’re delicious! Snack break!” Lance crams about 15 more into his mouth at once, and Keith just- stares. It’s not creepy but it makes Lance’s heart flip- because his eyes are crinkled and a soft smile plays across his features. 

“Do you even know if those are poisonous or not?” Keith asks, and Lance chokes, his eyes widening in fear. 

Keith snorts, smiling genuinely widely and shaking his head.

“I’m just playing with you. They aren’t poisonous.” 

Keith has a twinkle in his eye that makes something hot stir in the back of Lance’s eyelids, and he sighs, shaking his head. 

“Since when did you become such a jokester?” He puts a hand on his hip.

“I’ve always been funny. You just didn’t see it because you hated my guts.” Keith pushed it, shrugging and making his way deeper into the cold brush of dead leaves, leaving crackled ones behind. 

There’s something about Keith acknowledging Lance’s previous “hatred” that makes him squirm, and he quickly does a spiky branch, catching up to the tall werewolf. 

“I never hated you. I was just..embarrassed after what you said to me the night we met. What you said kind of..hit a weak spot I guess? I never knew enough stuff about you to _hate_ you truly.”

Keith stops, turning his head towards the left so Lance gets a peek of that jawline from behind feathered black hair. 

“I’m really sorry about that. I...don’t know what I was thinking. _Wanted your attention._ ” He mumbles the last part before abruptly stomping into the gnarly brush, leaving Lance with wide eyes. 

Keith wanted his attention? Why so?

“You? Wanting my attention?!” Lance rushed forward, eager to get more out of the tornado of the man. 

He’s hunched over, furiously picking up berries and cramming a few into his mouth ever so often, the red juice staining his lips. 

“Yeah.” He looks up for a moment before fully standing up, like he’s trying to avoid the blatant crudeness of his statement.

“Why?” Lance leaps out to grab his shoulder, and when his long tan fingers wrap around the muscle he squeezes, something that has Keith going rigid while also calming down simultaneously. 

Getting to know Keith over the past month has been...odd to say the least. Every night a new chat about anything- everything. Sometimes Lance feels like he’s stripping off his shining armour to reveal the fleshy inside that’s ever so vulnerable. But it’s ok. It’s ok because Keith doesn’t take advantage. He’s there, and he has a fleshy inside as well. 

Keith doesn’t listen, darting over to the next bush and plucking berries a little too carefully. 

“Keith,” Lance calls, and it’s laced with comfort. 

The man straightens, a clump of freshly picked berries in one hand, a wicker basket in the other. It’s a drastic clash from his L.L Bean turtleneck zip up, the color of white wool mittens heathered with gray and eggshell colors. He looks comfy. 

“I..” Keith turns, and Lance’s fingers clench around his own basket, because Keith’s cheeks are glowing. 

“There’s something about you. Very monet. You’re...you’re beau-interesting and as you rode closer on your horse there was more to uncover. I honestly don’t know why I said that. I could have been nicer..I guess I was looking for an immediate response, or answer. I knew it wouldn’t matter if I said it anyways.” Keith’s once slumped posture was straight and rigid as if a stone statue. Those eyes were working- playing tricks on him again and he bit his lip.

_Keith called him a monet painting. He looked at him like that and wanted his attention._

It makes his cheeks pinken, and he has to swallow down the intense instinct to shout, to cover the painful tension between them with a useless anecdote. 

“I thought you were an asshole.” Lance frowned, and Keith visibly clenched his jaw. 

“But you’re not. You’re kind, smart, and a really great friend. So..apology accepted.” He said, and he couldn’t help but let the corners of his mouth turn up. 

Keith must have felt the same way, because his lips twitched, as if on the urge of upturning stupidly. 

Lance doesn’t know why he says it. Probably because he knows Keith is thinking about it right now. 

“You...your tether..I can’t fathom why they can’t ever recognize how amazing you are.” He says it with hidden malice. It’s not towards Keith, but towards a certain tether that Lance wants to rip to shreds. For reasons...not given.

If Keith was tense before, he goes into rigor mortis now. It’s subtle, the change in attitude, posture, face. Like a wilting flower, the stone statue slowly crumbling, he licks his lips. They probably taste of berries. His eyes are glassy and he’s taking short breaths now as he looks back through the peaks of the brush. 

“It’s not their fault. It’s mine. If I hadn’t tethered them I would be able to freely leave and never burden them again.”

“What? You can’t leave freely?” Lance asks, before his eyebrows shoot up. “Not that I want you to leave! In fact, I don’t! I would miss you terribly.” Lance doesn’t know what he’s saying, or if it’s helping. 

Keith shakes his head before running his large hand through his hair. 

“It would be a lot easier if I did. When you become tethered to someone- you’re tethered. That’s it. And werewolves are fine with that. A tether isn’t something that makes you instantly fall in love with the person; though I did. It’s a bond that will eventually be earned. It’s really painful in the first few months. Like being burned across your whole body. Sadness and anger and...everything is like sandpaper against your eyes.” Keith checks out, and Lance is left feeling hollow inside. 

He can’t explain it, the barren feeling in his chest, like it’s blocked up by the branches they tear through on the outsides of Altea Hall. He begs whoever is out there that Keith’s pain will be relieved, and that Lance’s own agony can be quickly quenched, like water over a dying fire. 

There’s a shrill scream, and Keith and Lance look up at each other wide eyes. Keith is the first one to race back into the thicket, Lance following after him and dodging monstrous branches of jagged wood.

There’s a crowd around the entrance of Altea Hall. Lance doesn’t know what it’s for, he’s too far away, but when Keith stops abruptly, he knows it’s bad. 

And it is. 

Even from here the fraying rope hanging among the stone carvings of cherubs and all things heavenly is inexplicably terrifying. 

The first thing he sees over the crowd of bobbing heads and shrieks is two tufts of cerulean blue and sea green hair. His heart drops, and he shakily steps forward more, a half transformed were stepping to the side to reveal the full picture for just a wink in time before his place is filled.

Lance gasps, bringing his hands up to his mouth. 

He’s right, it’s the perpetrator from that time the Galra attacked, the one he set free. His eyes sting when they settle on the drab discoloration of her face and the tightly wrapped noose around her neck. 

He lets out a groan and his knees buckle because _this cannot be happening_.

“Lance?” Keith drops down next to him, and Lance doesn’t hesitate to turn into him, gasping for air as he tries to wipe the image from his mind. 

Keith immediately brings his arms around Lance and pulls him closer, a face buried in the other side of his neck. 

His heart hurts. He knows she was Galra and he shouldn’t be this upset- but he thinks about how she mourned for her lover when Lance choked her out. He lets out an audible sob when he imagines her doing the same but this time, with no chance of survival. 

“Lance, there’s a note attached to her.” Keith utters in his ear, and Lance shakily looks up. 

The crowd has awkwardly parted to reveal Allura ripping a large paper off of the imposter’s body. 

It has one word, and it’s written in red. 

_‘TRAITOR’_

Even from here, where Keith has him pulled close on the snow dusted ground, his head leaning against Keith’s as it strains to turn, he knows this is the last straw. 

He can see the flames ignite in Allura’s blue eyes, and how the whip of the wind in her silver hair becomes more snappish. 

Shiro stumbles out of the crowd and approaches her, and she firmly says something to her. He doesn’t hesitate to nod back, and they join hands, turning towards the murmuring group of people. 

“We will fight!” Allura screams, and an uproar of werewolves and vampires shake Lance to his entire core. 

Keith grips his shoulder with something almost fearful, and Lance feels ill. 

The pandemonium around him as Keith slowly stands him up begins to filter inside, and Keith assists him there, not mentioning how Lance is clinging onto his arm the whole time with his face buried into his shoulder pad. 

It’s a whirlwind of uncomfortable nationalism for their tiny nation of weres and vamps, people rushing down the halls, filtering in and out of rooms. Lance’s head is filled up to the top with confusion, and a spike in anxiety makes him whimper because he knows he should be where Allura is right now. 

“Hey.” Keith turns Lance to himself, and grips his shoulders.

‘Look, I know this is scary, but it’s time to take charge. You can do this.” Keith’s eyes are slanted slightly with his furrowed brows, and somehow Lance doesn’t take it offensively, sniffing once more and nodding. 

Without another word, he turns down the right hall, setting his pace faster. If it’s time for war, then they have to get ready. 

For the next few hours, Lance casts a brave face. He chugs down a coffee Hunk slides him from down the table, and Lance blows a friendly kiss at him, truly thankful. Hunk jokingly catches it and stores it in his pocket, having Lance rolling his eyes. 

Later into the evening is when Allura decides she needs to rally the higher vampire officials and the entire wolf pack in the conference room. As they file through, Lance is hit with a wave of nostalgia from two months ago when they first arrive. Except the look that Keith gives him when he walks in after Adam isn’t vicious whatsoever. It’s prideful and has Lance smiling softly, his teeth involuntarily biting the thick of his bottom lip. 

“Let’s all settle down!” Allura calls across the room, and the conversations die out. Lance sits down in his typical position right on Allura’s right side, or his left. He makes note that Keith doesn’t sit across from him like normal, but settles for a spot against the wall next to a rather tall and bulky looking werewolf, his ears poking out of blonde hair. 

“Thank you.” Allura cleared her throat, and Lance hesitantly redirected his attention to the front of the room, where Allura was sitting in her cushy chair. 

Her hair was knotted in a french twist, a bit disheveled from the recent panic cast over her reign. 

“We’ve recently learned the victim’s name was Zethrid. Though she was Galra, she still fell victim to the iron clasp of her species. As for what comes next..” She swallowed, her face hardening. 

“A battle is inevitable. To the death.” The room was already quiet, but now no one breathes, and it’s like you can hear a pin drop on the plush carpet. 

“We will leave for the middle ground early tomorrow morning. Before the sun comes up. This changes...all of our plans. We expected to have more time. But I was foolish to think that they wouldn’t attack unexpectedly...I apologize. Thanks to all of your rigorous training and hardwork from the past months, we have a chance to conquer.” She stands up from her chair, and Shiro quickly follows after her. 

“Along with Allura, I want to thank you all for your bravery and determination over this time. I know it was an awkward shift- werewolves and vampires becoming friends, but I’m glad. I hope this treaty can continue.” He smiled at Allura, who nodded back to him. 

Lance’s felt the hairs on the back of his neck raise, and his eyes darted to along the wall where Keith was staring at him. 

Those damn eyes, they were so hard to navigate. From far away they were stony and black, up close mingled with faint purples, blues and dark browns. Now they bore right into Lance, making a small shiver run up and down his back. 

“That will be all. Let’s all get a good rest tonight, we have a big day ahead of us tomorrow.” And with that, she exits the room, Shiro trailing behind with Adam wrapped around his arm. As everyone begins to somberly file out, bile begins to rise to Lance’s throat. 

The thought of blood being spilled tomorrow overtakes him, and he rushes outside, gripping onto the balcony, his knuckles turning white. It’s peaceful out here, with snow dusting the trees below and a cool winter breeze making Lance’s ears cold. It calms his fuzzy stomach, and finds solace in this place. 

Lance doesn’t hear Keith come behind him, which is quite surprising because he has impeccable hearing. He jumps when Keith comes up next to him, but doesn’t turn to him, continuing to look out on the view from the conference balcony. 

“It’s starting, you know.” He wistfully smiles, clenching his chapped hands together that rest on the stone wall, little cherubs carved in the columns, letting dark blue night and the occasional foliage peak through. 

Keith doesn’t say anything, and Lance turns to him, his heart stopping. 

Keith is so handsome, it aches. It sends tremors through Lance’s body that make his knees buckle, to where he can’t deny the unforgiving fact that he might be prickling the cusp of love- might be _in_ love. 

It’s not like Keith is wearing anything particularly drop dead. It’s his typical black shirt and dark jean duo, large hands dusted with black hair shoved into his pockets. But god does it look good. God, does it make Lance want to reach out and- and…

Keith’s defined black brows furrow, and he swallows, his adam’s apple hypnotically bobbing. 

“I wish it didn’t. Wish we didn’t have to do this.” He turned to Lance, and like a balloon popped in Lance’s chest, the pressure released. It’s like Keith’s full face- not just a sexy side profile is the key to his anxieties fleeing, and he bites his lightly glossed lip. 

There’s nothing they can do. The Galra are probably on the outskirts of the forest as of now, peering at them as they sit back on their spindly haunches and lick their chaps transformed, their tongues black from the sour dead flesh they let marinate in their jaw. 

“I know what you mean.” Lance turns back to the view before him, breathing in a crisp breath of fresh air, before letting his lids droop.

“But what choice do we have?” He whispers.

And he’s truly asking. What other choice do they have? Lance is not only terrified of war, but of the Galra. He doesn’t like to admit, but even in human form they have a blacked out look to their eye. He shivers as he recalls Zethrid’s blown out pupils, like a shark’s eye. She’s still hanging from the regal entrance, among the carvings of flowers and devils and harps. Dear god, Lance feels bile and panic rise up his throat. 

There’s something pushing up next to him, and he’s snapped out of his daze to find a modest Keith, much closer than he was before. He unsheathed his hand from his endless pocket, shakily holding it out, the leather wrinkled around where he grips his fists together. 

Lance grabs it like it’s Hunk’s chocolate fudge brownies, desperately wedging his tan fingers between dry ones that curl around him like a pale, fleshy fortress. 

It’s somehow freeing, like an anesthetic and he doesn’t know how he does it, doesn’t know why Keith makes him feel like this?

Like he’s flying, dipping, soaring. Like the first bite of a lemon cream cake, one that’s tangy and has your heart beating and your body warm because of the flavor. 

He looks up at the werewolf, who meets his gaze with those eyes again. 

“I wish I could know what you’re thinking.” He whispers, and a cold puff of air from the winter air blows onto Keith’s chin and bottom lip, making it disappear under a row of white teeth, a canine prodding the skin, a mole nestled right in the crook of his lip that Lance craves to kiss.

“All you have to do is ask.” Keith whispers back, and his eyes shine with passion that Lance desperately wants to measure back to. His voice is like a deep base that warms at the edges, and sends Lance through the numbers of internally blooming again and again. 

Lance could stand on the balls of his socked feet right now and their lips would touch. He wonders what Keith would taste like, and how he would kiss him. He wonders if Keith thinks questions like that. Lance could reach up and brush that strand of black hair from Keith’s face and drive their lips together. He could lean into his chest and grip onto his shoulder as he sucks a loving mark on his neck- could nestle his nose against Keith’s roman one, tracing his finger down the slight bump. 

And most importantly, he could whisper the thing he’s been aching to say for two months now, ever since he practically layed eyes on Keith- infuriating Keith that made his stomach stir with undetected warmth. 

“Lance,” Keith’s voice is slightly rasps, and his eyelids droop, mouth slightly opening. 

Lance squeezes his hand, reaching another hand and turning a bit more into Keith, brushing that strayed away from the others, letting his hand rest on Keith’s cheek. 

“Keith,” Lance breathes, and he has silent firecrackers in his chest, only the puffs of their waves rippling through the air, rattling his rib bones as Keith cradles his chin, their lips only inches apart and growing less. 

“ _Keith,_ ” He lets it spill out again, so close to Keith’s mouth that he can almost feel the way his cool breath bounces back onto his own lips. 

They’re about to touch, so close, Lance can hear Keith’s breathing and the way he swallows, can feel the heat of Keith’s breath on his tongue. Keith’s other arm had come to softly land on Lance’s hip, squeezing while simultaneously squeezing his hand. 

“Lance! I need you!” Allura’s voice rings in their ears and Lance jumps back, and like a light turned off abruptly, he has to temporarily reset and refocus. 

“C-coming!” His bright red and thankful Keith had turned away. 

He doesn’t know if he should say something, but the seizing fear in his stomach that the moment is over makes his feet shuffle out into the conference room and to the hallway.

His eyes sting and he bites his lip, because _what was that_?

Keith has a tether. 

_An unrequited tether_. 

A tether he loves. 

_He deserves to be happy with someone who wants him back._

Yes, but how long will Lance want him until they brush to close together? Until they’ve admitted their burning passion for each other and then it drives them apart?

_You would never do that. You love him too much._

Damn his subconscious, always making things harder than they have to be. Always bringing his true feelings to light to where his fingertips numb and his mouth aches.

“Lance!” Allura approaches him and he’s snapped out of his thoughts, his blue eyes burning with tears.

“How are you holding up?” She rests a hand on his shaking shoulder, and he smiles. 

“I’m fine Allura. But you need to get some rest. Go.” He nods his head towards her sleeping chamber, and she gives him a knowing smile, leaning in and kissing his cheek. 

“You’ve always been my support system Lance. I love you for that.” She squeezes his shoulder before letting go and stepping away, walking down the hall and turning the corner. 

Lance is alone again, and this time to stew in his thoughts. He cannot escape from him this time, and they keep him up the whole night.

***

The next morning they leave by 5:30 in the morning. It’s still dark out, and as they all silently step through the snow, Lance worries for an unexpected ambush. Just like he predicted, he didn’t sleep well the night before, too busy thinking about the balcony and Keith. Something brushes against Lance’s hand and he gasps, turning to find the one and only standing there. He has a small smile on his face but it doesn’t meet his eyes, and Lance gladly takes his hand looking back towards Allura and Shiro who lead the cluster through the snowy forest. Keith’s hand is warm and big, and everytime Keith squeezes his palm Lance’s heart skyrockets. He needs to pull it together, needs to put his head in the game because he’s about to go into the battle for his rights- the battle for his life. 

By the time the sky has begun to lighten and the sun is poking from behind the distant mountain range, they finally make it to the clearing- the middle ground. 

It’s a large expansive field that was once covered in heather and ryegrass, and now laden with snow. There’s thick woods and thrush on the other side. Lance wonders if the Galra will emerge from there. 

“I have to tell you something.” Keith grips Lance’s hand and he looks almost frantic. 

Lance raises a brow in confusion, stepping closer. 

“What?”

“I- You’re my-”

“They’re here! Quiet!” Adam shrieks, and like a blanket, silence becomes the only thing known in the field. 

At first there’s a quiver from the other side. It’s barely visible because the field is pretty wide, but it’s there. 

That’s when the first hand emerges, and like ants, they crawl from every aspect of the forest. On the ground, in the trees, and simply through the brush. 

Lance hears a whimper, and he squeezes Keith’s hand, letting him know he’s there. 

Most of them are already transformed, their once normal looking bodys exchanged for spindly limbs and razor sharp rows of decaying teeth, bloodshot and milky eyes. 

Haggar and Zarkon emerge from the thrush last, sending an ominous chill down Lance’s back. 

Zarkon, the leader and the oppressive bastard, holds a gleaming sword in one hand and his wife’s hand in the other. Lance can see his pink welted scar running across his left eyebrow down to his cheek from here, and he shivers when his gigantic feet leave monstrous prints in the sheets of snow. 

His wife, Haggar, is just as terrifying. She’s a witch beyond all known morals, and her ashy gray hair whips behind her in tendrils that curl, defying the wind magically. 

“Allura Altea. I’m glad you have joined us.” Zarkon doesn’t even need to yell for his voice to boom across the several yards in between them. His presence is that terrifying, and Lance has to manually breathe in order to not forget. 

“I’m sad to say the pleasure isn’t returned, Zarkon. We’ve received your act as aggression.” She steps forward, spitting back harshly. 

Haggar smirks by her husband’s side, leaning more into his meaty shoulder. 

“My Alpha, it seems as if their intentions of this meeting are just as we expected.” She strokes his bicep, and Adam scoffs from Shiro’s side at her blatant ignorance for knowing when to _shut the fuck up_.

“For the past decades, the Galra have bore down on werewolves and vampires in the cruelest ways. We’ve been killed, raped, and sold to your pleasure. We’ve been herded and pushed around by the revolting _wendigo_.” Allura clenched her fist, unsheathing a sword. 

_“No more! I refuse to bow down to the evil of your societal structure! Prepare to fight to the death!”_ She screams, and there is a swell of pride and rebellion that fuels the weres and vampires.

They cheer loudly, and Lance can feel his fangs coming down from their socket. He very hesitantly lets go of Keith’s hand, sending him a tearful weak. 

He’s practically ashamed, feeling this scared. But Keith is there like always, and he gives him a warm smile. 

Lance should be moving, taking stance along with the others around him. Werewolves transform like it’s spread through the throng of the supernatural, and Keith gives him one last gaze with his beautiful eyes before he warps into a wolf before his eyes. The wolf that bounded towards him with anger in his eyes such a long time ago now is powerful and _huge_. The pink scar on his muzzle can be slightly seen poking over the other side of his face, and white canines poke out of black fur, a throaty growl emerging. It sends Lance in awe, how a creature he once despised can seem this amazing now. 

Lance's head spins back just in time to see Zarkon maliciously grin. 

“If that’s how you’ll have it. The snow will be soaked in vampire and werewolf blood by the time dawn is done.” He parts from his wife, wincing as they both bend over, their clothes bulging as their bones grow painfully and they rip at the seams, to reveal two snarling, long limbed creatures that paralyze Lance with fear. 

He needs to be brave. He needs to be brave for so many reasons, but now they’re so hard to come across. No...for his friends, for his passed family. For Keith. 

Haggar leaps forward first and pounces on a werewolf, and it’s like a match dropped in a sea of oil- the field ignites into action as the creatures collide with each other. Lance scans the crowd as he runs forward, skidding to a stop when a Galra approaches him, claws bared as it leaps forward, mouth open. 

Lance rolls under the creature, coming behind it and latching his teeth into their neck, tearing out their jugular with a revolting spurting noise. They gurgle as they curl up on the ground, red blooming against the stark white snow. 

Lance doesn’t have time to take the view in, spitting out the remains of the neck just in time to be tackled by another.

He growls as the wendigo grabs onto his arm, yanking it under his bodice so he’s trapped. Lance kicks his feet up into their face, scraping his nails against the sensitive tendons in the back of their ankles. He finishes the job by twisting their neck to earn a sharp crack. He leaps up, eyes widening. 

The field once white is blood red, just like Zarkon said. Lance averts his eyes from their side of the battle field, not being able to look over and see the dead bodies of his team yet. A pack of three wolves drag two wendigos down the field, throthing at the mouths as they swing them repeatedly into the trees, invoking screams from them, their sickly bodies contorting as the thick branches batter them. 

It’s..animalistic. It’s a battle. Lance bites his lip, cutting around the field and tackling a charging Galra, punching on them as they gallop towards him with lolled tongues. He groans when the tongue touches his cheek, pinning them down. Their neck is weak and lanky, and he easily cracks it, making them rigid on the ground. 

Lance can’t waste time- cannot think about how he’s killing. It’s almost adrenaline fueling, the need to defend himself an animal instinct brought out from deep down. Tears well in his eyes as he stomps on a Galra’s face, their rows of teeth caving in and their eyeballs dribbling down their cheeks, as if melted. 

He holds in his bile that time, charging on. 

How much longer until Lance is no longer killing Galra, but people? How much more until he’s the wendigo, until he has the thirst for blood that dribbles down his throat _still_ from the first jugular rip. 

A groan makes him turn his head and horror, as he watches Zarkon pin down Allura, their swords met in a deadly cross, forcing down on Allura’s squirming body. 

Without hesitation he begins to run across the field. His lungs burn and he dodges several battles, his eyes focused on Allura’s desperate ones, as she desperately pushes back on Zarkon’s weight. 

Lance tackles him from behind with a scream, rolling over so he’s surprised on the ground. His milky pupils focus on Lance, and the two of the scramble up. Zarkon grins, still clutching his sword. 

He exchanges a glance with Allura who’s standing up now as well. He knows this is her battle, but he also knows he serves as a good distraction. 

He runs forward, and dodges the blade of Zarkon’s sword, stumbling back until he rolls over, narrowly missed by the sharp blade. He gives Allura a knowing look who’s closer than ever to him now, and just as she brings her sword down against his neck, Zarkon turns, their swords clashed. 

Lance knows she has it from here, is confident, and he scrambles back to catch his breath. 

That’s unfortunately delayed when someone pushes him to the ground. He rolls over and narrowly misses Haggar’s claw. She’s rasping at him, and her bulbish head clouded with silver gray hair looks even more terrifying with an extra set of teeth. 

“Fuck you!” Lance spits, beginning to lurch up when his head is slammed back into the snow so hard it ricochets off his brain, makes him spurt up a bit of that bile from earlier.

A hand fastens around his throat, and Haggar hisses, leaning down so her dead eyes are burning into Lance’s. 

“You’re pathetic, you know that?” Haggar chuckles, and the increasing pressure of her hand makes Lance feel like he’s a balloon. His lungs burn for air, and his lids are growing heavy, his eyes traveling so he can’t even focus on Haggar’s devilish expression. 

“A little vamp like you, thinking you could conquer a species that has been running this show for _hundreds of years_? Well let this be a little lesson.” She squeezes harder, and he rasps, his legs kicking as the need for air begins to become almost unbearable, his face blossoming into a purple, his eyes bulging as he tries to reach oxygen. 

“Little runts like you are made to be controlled. It’s either die or lie down. I guess you don’t have that choice today. Goodnight my dear, you’ll probably be delicious.” She coos, and just as Lance begins to slip away, as the color begins to swirl with black and he can’t really hear anything other than Haggar’s voice, a black shadow sends Haggar flying through the air. Lance coughs, eyes flooding with tears as he watches through blurry vision a large black wolf wrestle with Haggar. 

“Keith,” He wheezes, and he feels like he’s swallowed broken glass.

Red soars through the sky as the world rips Haggar’s entrails from her stomach. He mauls her, blood dampening his dark coat as his paws skitter across the icy ground, almost desperate to ruin Zarkon’s evil wife beyond comparison. 

By this time she’s dead, her face bloody and ripped along with her stomach slit open sloppily like a watermelon. 

Keith finally stops, but Lance’s eyes wide as he sees blood trickle down his belly into the snow. He cries out when the colossal wolf collapses into the snow.

“Keith!” Lance cries out, shakily standing up, running and falling on top of the twitching beast. 

“No, no no no _no!_ ” He breathes as his fur disappears, his muzzle shortening back into that handsome nose and Keith is laying practically naked in front of him, only a pair of tarnished boxers. 

Keith has a deep slash across his shoulder, and Lance bites his lip, taking off his shirt and shakily pressing it on. 

“Lance..” Keith mumbles, his hand shakily coming up to Lance’s cheek. 

Like his heart is being put through a shredder, he lets out a sob, leaning into the hand. His eyes are scrunched together, and he doesn’t know if he does this to hold in the tears or avoid looking at Keith’s expression. 

There is distant yelling but Lance can’t hear it over the beating of his own heart, and he leans desperately more into Keith. 

He’s softly smiling, running his hands through Lance’s sticky and sweaty hair. He looks happy, in a time so earth shattering for Lance. He’s just laying there staring up at Lance as if he’s a god from above, taking him to heaven.

“Please..please don’t-” Lance sobs, and he desperately paws at the shirt, pressing it harder into the wound. 

“Oh shit...Keith!” Shiro yells, and all the sudden Lance and Keith are surrounded by a flurry of people. 

There are commands that Lance can’t hear, and he’s being pulled away. 

“No..no! Let me see him!” He screams, resisting against the person’s grip. They’re strong and hoist Lance up. 

“Keith!” He screams, and he can see Keith reaching out for him as he’s hoisted up by several people, his lips moving. 

“Kei..” He cries, and that exhaustion from earlier comes back to plague him, his eyelids drooping. 

The need to say what's on his chest rips through him, like a shot of the strongest alcohol. As the world begins to swirl around him, he lets it slip. 

_I love you._ He tries, but nothing comes out of his mouth, just sound. It’s his worst nightmare, and he pounds against the person’s back, silently screaming. 

He passes out just as his throat begins to twinge with pain. 

***

God, Lance could go for some soup right now. A warm bowl of chicken soup sliding down his currently shredded throat would be splendid. 

He blearily opens his eyes, squinting against the stark medical word light, and suddenly it’s being blocked out by a shadow. 

“You’re awake! Great!” It’s the familiar voice of Hunk, and Lance’s blue eyes solely focus on his bright orange headband, before drifting down to his bulbous nose, two shining eyes.

His next thought is the image of Keith staring up at him, fondly smiling, and it sends a jolt of energy through his limp body. 

He scrambles up, but is stopped by a large brown hand, and a nervous laugh. 

“Woah there bud! Let’s calm down, you haven’t eaten in a few hours and you lost some blood from the reopened wound on your ribs.” Hunk eases him back down, and Lance blinks in confusion, because he doesn’t recall being sliced on the rib. 

“Who reopened my wound?” Lance asked. 

Hunk shrugged, handing him a back full of thick, sloshing blood. His fangs instantly shoot down almost painfully and he grabs it with greed, suckling happily. 

“We think it was Haggar.” He suggests.

Lance’s eyes widened in recognition, as the reopened wound from the time when he and Keith fought in the training room. He winces, his heart aching when he thinks about Keith’s expression aftering uttering those cruel words. 

_I hate you._

“How’s..is he alive?” He utters it out quietly, like not wanting to disrupt Hunk. 

He smiles at Lance, ruffling his hair softly. 

“Yeah buddy, he’s alive. Wouldn’t have made it if it wasn’t for Allura’s blood transfusions though.” Hunk smiles, and Lance can’t help but smile with him. 

Pride swells at the thought of his best friend giving Keith blood. He accidentally squeezes the pouch too hard and it blasts into his mouth. He recovers quickly, swallowing the thick liquid until he leaves a tomato soup flavor lingering in his throat. 

His mind transports him to just before he blacked out, how Keith reached out for him as Shiro dragged him up towards Altea by his sagged shoulders, the fear in his eyes that ignites Lance’s soul like it’s doused in oil.

“I need to see him.” Lance stands up.

Hunk gives him a hesitant look. 

“I don’t know Lance...you were _really_ freaked out there. I almost thought you were gonna go into some kind of shock or something..” He’s gripping the hem of his shirt, and Lance appreciates Hunk’s compassion deeply, stepping forward and collapsing into a hug. 

He breathes in his bud’s calming scent, before pulling back. 

“I need to see him.” Is all he says, and with a look, a knowing look, Hunk steps aside and gives Lance a clear path of the door. 

Lance doesn’t realize he’s wearing white thermal pajamas until he’s padding down the hallway, the shirt a bit loose but almost hemmed at the bottom, leaving a chilly sliver of tan for Lance to modestly cover with his hands. 

He doesn’t really know where he’s going, it’s more like he’s looking for clues. He finally gets one when he turns the hall to see Adam in the lap of Shiro, the two of them nestled in a chair outside. 

As Lance quietly draws closer, he can’t help but give a small smile to the couple. Adam nuzzles his neck with his nose, while Shiro sighs, his eyes drifting closed and his arms tightening around Adam’s torso. 

Lance lets himself in. 

The room is a carbon copy of his own, accept for the person laying in it. 

_A few hours my ass,_ it must have been at least 15. The moon is peeking in through the soft blowing sheer curtains, and as Lance directed his eyes to the man in the bed, his heart crinkled. 

Like being folded into origami, his heart practically takes a new shape, takes a new force, is driven by something he can’t even recognize anymore. It’s so strong it overtakes his lungs and he holds his breath as his eyes well up with tears. He brings his hand shakily up to his chest as he walks closer to the bed, and he doesn’t really know what to take in first. 

Wearing no shirt is a start, along with the puffy line of bruised stitches that run down his left pectoral and slice across the edge of his shoulder. His blue eyes squeeze shut as they recall Keith tackling Haggar and ripping her to shreds. 

_“I’m..I want to protect you. Keep you safe.”_

His eyes blazed with anger, even Lance could see it from where he was laying in the rancid pink snow, as Keith murdered her. 

Lance shivered, his eyes drifting up to his face. 

Dark amethyst eyes met him. 

He gasped, but didn’t move back. 

Keith lay calmly against the pillow, his eyes slowly blinking, his black hair pooled around his angular face, pink scar still there, a bitter reminder that Keith had been hurt before. 

“You’re ok!” He blurts, and he can feel a smile coming on, as mortifying as it is he can feel himself beginning to shakily smile because _thank god he’s alive, thank god he wasn’t taken away before I could tell him._

Keith begins to grin too, nodding. 

“Appears we both are.”

“I was so scared..” Lance bites his lip. He knows he shouldn’t be smiling right now, knows that this is something he has to keep to himself because Keith is tethered to someone else, in love with someone else. 

“Hey,” Keith pulls him out of his angst, his hand brushing against Lance’s that lay unsuspecting on the bed. 

The fingers creep across the palm and wrap around the pinky. It’s electric, and Lance’s eyes sting from honestly being overwhelmed. Keith squeezes, as it gets his attention, and he looks up again. 

“I told you I’d protect you.” He’s smiling and it’s incredibly soft, something that makes Lance almost uncomfortable with the bubbling passion that’s beginning to be freed from his chest. 

Keith’s eyes droop closed, and he shakily brings the hand up to his cheek, placing a soft kiss on it. It’s warmth sends a wave through Lance’s body and his cheeks ripen pink. He’s thankful Keith’s eyes are closed. 

“I’ll...protect you...” He slurs, and with that, he begins to drift to sleep again. 

Lance is almost surprised that Keith is that comfortable with Lance to fall asleep then and there, but he’s probably extremely exhausted from practically everything today. 

He chuckles, because sleeping Keith is adorable. His mouth is slightly open, and it makes a soft whistling noise every time air travels through his teeth. His face is so relaxed, and Lance doesn’t recall a time where he just seemed so...calm. 

He can’t help but sigh shakily, because Keith trusts him to fall asleep in front of him, he placed a kiss on Lance’s hand and it was soft and warm. 

He doesn’t know how long he stands there just watching Keith sleep, his mouth twitching every once in a while in an adorably endearing way.

The door creaks open and as if Lance was in a trance, he swallows the lump that he hadn’t noticed settled in his throat and turns to face the visitor. 

It was Shiro and Adam, unsurprisingly, and Lance relaxed. 

Keith’s hand tightens around Lance’s, and he softly grumbles something in his sleep. 

“Wow, his scar looks great!” Shiro leans over to inspect it up close, and Lance raises a brow because it most certainly _does not_. It’s blooming purple and blue with dried blood crusted around the stitches. It looks so painful that Lance averts his eyes. Who knows? At this point, Keith stubbing his toe would probably make his heart drop into his stomach, so he supposes he isn’t the best judge. 

“Was it worse before, darling?” Adam leans over Shiro’s shoulder, rubbing the now smooth stump and pressing a kiss right where it cuts off. Lance rolls his shoulder. He can’t imagine the pain.

“Yes..incredibly so. How remarkable.” Shiro traces his hand over it softly, but Keith still jumps slightly. 

It’s enough for Keith to release his hand, his eyebrows to scrunch, but nothing more, nothing less. 

Lance can’t help but reach out and press his thumb softly between those angry furrowed brows, smoothing out the line until Keith complicitly relaxes. The eyebrow hairs tickle his thumb, and how he aches to trace them once more. A soft smile playing across the sleeping werewolf’s lips, the apples of his cheeks relaxing where they were once scrunched. He hesitantly removes his hand, looking up when a tiny gasp travels across the bed. 

Adam gives him a knowing look, while Shiro is too distracted staring down at Keith’s wound. He seems to want to observe it more, like there’s more to it. 

“What?” He feels practically naked now, like these thermal pajamas are see through or something. 

“Nothing I just...I’ve never seen that before.” He pushes his glasses up his nose. “Wow, tethers can really work their magic huh?” He seems to be trying to make a joke, but Lance doesn’t catch on. 

Tether?

Shiro stands up rod straight, giving Adam a look of deep fried _anger_ , and his mate cowers, slapping a hand over his mouth. 

“But..Keith’s tether isn’t even here. He’s some asshole that…” Lance pauses, frowning. 

This is...weird. 

His brain is desperately scattered across the plane of his spiritual mind, and he scrambles to pick up the correct pieces. 

His eyes are darting from the paper thin bedsheets to Adam’s fearful expression because he’s trying to figure this out, something is missing and he can’t understand. The answer is right under a thin layer of what seems like denial, and he just can’t quite reach it, shaking his head. 

“What are you talking about?” He finally asks. 

This damn thermal shirt was suddenly clinging to him like a second slimy skin, and he itches to rip it off.

“Fuck...Keith is going to kill us..” Shiro runs a hand through his hair. 

“What are you talking about?!” Lance’s pitch raises slightly, and he feels a frantic sensation of desperation bubbling in his throat and his eyes are stinging. He can’t explain why, he can’t explain the sense of dread he feels in his stomach, if it even is dread.

“Keith must have never ended up telling you...er...Keith is..”

“You’re his tether!” Adam blurts out, and Shiro blankly looks at him. 

“I was gonna say it.”

  
“You were taking too long, I got- Lance?!” Adam turned to see the flash of Lance’s pajama leg as he raced out the door. 

Like an explosion, like a crashing iceberg in his chest, Lance feels like everything inside him is rumbling. His eyes ache as they burn for the third time today, and he turns the corner, desperate to escape. 

He refuses to believe it. Refuses to believe Keith was talking about him this..this whole time!

He narrowly avoids a girl walking the opposite direction. 

Keith was in pain. For months...he was in pain. And that’s the worst part. He whimpers as he thinks about Keith sneaking into his room, shuffling through his sock drawer. He’s crumbling, and he feels so overwhelmed, so happy, so upset, and so emotional he brings his hand shakily up to his chest to make sure it’s there, along with his burning lungs as he nears the conference room.

The thermal shirt has to come off. It’s slick with sweat and it’s like a chastity belt for his lungs at this point. He’s glad to see it go as it drops onto the conference room floor, and he stumbles out onto the balcony, welcoming the refuge to cold air. 

He doesn’t know why he ran. He just did. Was he scared? Shocked? He doesn't know. All he does is feel, feel the ardent burning in his chest. All he can do is try to navigate it right then and there. He shakily puts his hand to his chest as he looks out at the view once more. 

It’s the same as always, the same forest that travels for miles and the same distant lake off northeast, along with a mountain range directly in front of him. It’s far enough it could be put on a piece of printer paper and fit perfectly inside it. The clouds still loom over the deep sapphire sky, stars still dust it gently and the moon still sits among it, like it’s enjoying every moment. 

Nothing has changed, yet Lance feels like his world has been thrashed wildly. 

Keith said it was unrequited. 

It’s not unrequited. 

He once again doesn’t hear Keith come up behind him, but he feels the brush of cold air on his cooling back from the door sliding open. Lance knows it’s Keith. Knows it’s him because any other person would obnoxiously stroll right in and damper everything, with their loud voice and elbow jabs and anything that basically resembled himself. He makes no move to turn, his hands gripping the stone with white knuckles. 

He hears the hesitant shuffles behind him. Keith must not be wearing any shoes like Lance, because he can feel the way his heels scuffle across the awkward cobblestone. 

He settles next to him, a little behind. 

“Lance,”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Lance blurts. He takes a chance to look at him. 

Those damn eyebrows are scrunched again painfully, a sad frown with a soft lip bite that could tide Lance over for the rest of winter. He releases his lip, the frown remaining as he looks out distantly at the glowing moon. 

It makes his skin look blue, just like the first night they met. 

It’s a long time before Keith speaks. 

“I didn’t want to make you feel like you were obligated to stick around.”

Lance swallows something he can only describe as an indignant cry, and he looks down at his fingers. 

They look even smaller in this moment, and the pads press against the stone until little chips of it poke his skin. 

“That’s ridiculous. I stick around because I want to. But what about you? It seems you’re awful happy to leave, seeing as you’re always complaining about it.” Lance scoffs, and why, why is he doing it like this?

“What does that even mean?”

“Saying you want to break your bond with your tether so you can leave, Keith! Fucking almost getting yourself killed today by tackling Haggar!” Lance is fueled up and he isn’t scared anymore, fully turning to him. 

“Hey, you almost died today too! I told you I would protect you!” Keith snaps back, glaring. 

“I don’t need you to protect me Keith! I’m not some helpless little boy!” 

“I don’t do it because I think you _need_ it. I do it because I want to. And don’t even give me shit about today because she almost killed you Lance. Your face was fucking purple by the time I got to her!” Keith paused, shakily sighing. 

“I would do it again if I had to. Would do anything for you, you idiot.” Keith scoffs. 

They stare at the mountain range for a few seconds. Lance can feel the question stirring in his belly.

“If you would do anything for me then why are you so desperate to break your tether to me?” It hurts when he says it, knowing Keith has actively been wishing to diminish a bond Lance has been craving and only learned about 20 minutes ago.

“Because. You don’t feel the same way, and like I said. I would never want to make you feel obligated to love me back. You would be happier if I was not here, tethered to you.” His big hands are shaking, he can see it, but he doesn’t say anything because so are Lance’s. 

“You love me?” Lance whispers, turning to Keith. 

Keith doesn’t go to turn, only has a distant look on his face. Lance wants to know what he is thinking. His eyes well over, and a big tear runs down his cheek, making Lance’s body practically convulse with the need- the ache to hug, to _kiss_. 

“I love you more than anything in the entire universe.” 

Keith turns his head to look at Lance, his chin resting only a few inches from the black stitches in his shoulder. 

The piece he had been scrambling for earlier is picked up, and like his ears have fine tuned a particular sound, Lance’s heart sings. 

He steps forward, Keith raising a brow. He ducks under Keith’s arm that’s partially resting on the balcony, coming up against Keith’s chest, sandwiched between his thin hospital gown and the hard, stone balcony. 

Keith’s eyes are wide, his mouth dropped open slightly, so Lance can see the edge of his white teeth. Can feel his heart going fast, the rigidness in his shoulders as Lance’s hand slowly, slowly winds up his pictorials and around his neck. 

They meet at the back of his scruff and mingle with his mullet, scritching playfully. Keith shivers, his eyes slowly closing open once more. 

“If you leave town then wait for me, because I’m coming too.” He whispers against Keith’s skin, and finally, presses a soft kiss on the wet tear track of his cheek, having to slightly shift to the balls of his toes so he doesn’t miss. 

Keith blushes red as Lance pulls back, his mouth opening and then closing momentarily, as if he was going to say something but then decided not to. It’s endearing, and finally, finally Lance gets to find refuge in Keith’s arms, because they slowly wrap around his lower waist, nudging him closer to Keith, closer to the warmth. The fingers dig into just above his hips, and he sighs, resting his forehead against Keith’s chin. 

This feels so right it aches, and like everything falls into place, Keith pulls back slightly and nudges his forehead up with his nose, their eyes locking. 

He can read them now, those eyes. They’re dark in this light but full of _love_ , like they’ve always been and it makes Lance’s own prick because he can’t fathom why Keith would ever look at him like this. 

“I love you.” Keith whispers, and it’s completely bare. 

They’re both leaning in, as if magnets slowly inching along. Lance’s eyelids grow heavier and heavier, so much he can only see a blur of Keith’s face, so much that he can hear Keith’s breath and the way he licks his lips, and feel it too on his cupid's bow, just before they finally come together. 

It’s soft at first. Their lips brush, and it feels like a zap of electricity. Lance moves closer, until he finally presses his lips to Keith’s. The sensation is something Lance has been craving for since what seems like ages, and he presses forward so his nose rubs against the werewolf’s and his bottom lip is being softly sucked on. A twinge of desperation begins the pull and push, the soft hesitation before their lips press back to one another, and Lance wants more. His arms tighten around Keith’s neck, and he indulges in Keith’s grunt when Lance begins to scratch the scruff of his neck. 

Lance feels like he’s flying, and he’s so disappointed he could cry when Keith pulls back to get air. Panting like dogs, they stare at each other with flushed cheeks.

“I love you more.” Lance finally whispers back, and like Keith’s stature crumbles, he breaks out into the biggest smile ever recorded. 

“Geez Keith, who knew you had those cheezers!” He references his pearly white teeth, and Keith laughs, spinning him so they face the conference room, Lance bundled in his arms, nestled on his chest. 

“It’s a boyfriend privilege.” Keith smirks.

When was the last time Lance felt this happy? He can’t remember. He returns the embarrassingly large smile and leans up for another kiss.

“Hmmm. I’m not sure what you want Lance.” The werewolf teases, and Lance pouts, narrowing his eyes slightly.

“Shut up and kiss me, Filbo.” Lance growls, grabbing the nightgown and pulling him down. 

“It’s Fido, my love.” Keith smiles, gladly complying and leaning down to meet Lance in a passionate kiss. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> andddd it's done! i seriously feel like i'm forgetting to say something very important so these blurbs might be edited. i have so many WIPS going on i don't even know where to start, so hopefully i'll post one soon!  
> tumblr: ribroast  
> twitter: ribroast_  
> instagram: link6past


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